Welcome to Baker Island
by retiredddddddd
Summary: When no one agrees to play with him, America forces the former Allied and Axis powers to reenact World War Two on a deserted island. GerIta, FrUK, USJap, RuChi. Rated T for suggested adult themes, minor language, and petty violence. Set in modern day.
1. Prologue

Hello! I'm entirely new to writing fan fiction, but I've enjoyed so many other works on this site that I feel obligated to give all of you something in return. This will be a multiple-chapter story, if people seem interested in it.

I try very hard to be historically accurate, but if I do miss something, please let me know!

If dialogue is italicized, that means it is spoken in a different language and translated to English for your convenience! By the way, I don't speak any language other than English. Thank you, Wikipedia and Google translator!

Enjoy the story!

* * *

England sat impatiently in his largest airport. First his vacation had been delayed, then his taxi had been delayed, and now his flight was also delayed. His mood was sour long before the cell phone in his jacket started vibrating.

Expecting sarcastically that the caller would tell him his hotel room in Venice was somehow delayed as well, England kept his eyes on the departure gate while he flipped open his phone and answered, "Hello, this is Arthur. With whom do I have the pleasure of-?"

"Yo, England, what's up!"America's voice was so loud that England briefly pulled the phone away.

He lowered the volume on his phone and replied, "Why are you-"

"Dude, you've got to come to my house! We're getting ready to reenact my revolutionary war next week, but we still don't have any Englishmen to beat up!"

That comment fired the wrong electrons in England's head, and his face twitched with belligerence and shame. "A-absolutely not! I'm at the airport right now and my plane is here, I have to go."

"But England! Without you, I'm just a farby amat-"

England shut his cell phone. "Wanker."

Hmm, maybe he should go buy a magazine. After all, his plane wouldn't be here for another forty-five minutes, at least.

* * *

China had been working very hard lately to please his boss, which made his personal time all the more valuable, even if that personal time had been delegated lately to just his hours of sleep.

He had been away on business all week, so his bed was exceptionally warm today. Nestled in his favorite pajamas- which he would sometimes wear outside of his house, like many others from around his home- he embraced sleep.

A cell phone in the kitchen, and then the home phone by his bed, blasted his dark slumber with an unwelcome light. Groaning, he pulled the home phone from its console.

Before he could even talk, the speaker on the other end shouted, "Hey China! Let's hit the movies!"

"America, I am trying to sleep, aru!"

"Please! Please, please, please! It'll be fun and- is this a home phone? Ha, get a cell phone, China!"

"I have a cell phone, aru! I have more cell phones than anyone else, aru!" China took a deep, restricted breath to compose himself. "How you can even consider such luxuries is beyond me, with all the debt that you owe-"

"Luxuries? What luxuries? You mean going to the movies? Those aren't luxuries, I need those to live!"

"Good night, aru!"

"Hey, wait, I-"

China ended the call, docked the phone in the console, and sighed. Why were Westerners so frustrating?

* * *

France awoke to find himself sprawled on the floor, alone in a bedroom that was not his. In an attempt to help himself up, he hit the bed stand and knocked off an empty bottle of wine. He was almost insulted when the bottle merely bounced on the floor instead of shattering into pieces. He had drunken wine from a _plastic _bottle?

The ring of a cell phone on the bed pierced his hangover. Grimacing for a moment, France ran his searching fingers along the sheets, hunting for his pants. He found a sock, a shirt, a smaller shirt, and then a pair of tight blue jeans. He pulled his pants off of the bed and removed his cell phone from a pocket. After a quick slide of his hand through his own hair, he flipped it open and answered, "Alo?"

"France, man, I haven't seen you in forever! C'mon, you and me, movies, now!"

"Ah, America," France began to look for his underwear somewhere beneath the covers. "Forgive me, mon cher, but I am not available on such short notice."

"C'mon, Frenchy, I'll come to your place! Or you can come to my place, on me!"

France paused when he heard someone-two female someones?- laughing near his room, and he grinned. "Not today, America, I am in the middle of something… Or, I am about to be!"

"What do you mean by-?"

France shut his phone and discarded it, along with the underwear he had located.

* * *

Russia sat on a couch, watching an old movie in his dark living room with a bottle of vodka glued to his hand. He was finished with his work, his sisters were occupied in Europe, and the weather was not cold enough to penetrate his apartment. This movie wasn't bad, either, even if it was in black and white. Today was a good day.

His cell phone rang in his overcoat, and Russia checked it. The caller ID revealed the culprit to be American, so Russia answered it with, "Hello, I am Russia."

"Hey, commie, you've got snow at your house, right? Well, I've got an itch to go snowboarding!"

"An itch? Where, America? Is it in your nose? If so, you will be drinking soon. Is it in your eye? If it is in your left eye, you will be sad, but if it is in your right eye, you will be happy, da?"

"Uh, no, I'm just saying that I should totally whip your ass at snowboarding! I can be there tonight!"

Russia smiled. "'Whip my ass'? That sounds unpleasant, comrade."

Something fell in the kitchen. "Big brother~!" A woman's voice haunted the house. "I'm back from the United Nations, big brother, why are we speaking in English~?"

A shiver rattled Russia's spine. "Kol kol kol kol..."

"Ha, stupid commie, I mean-"

Russia quickly closed the phone and sneaked out of the room, forgetting the television but not the vodka.

Italy skipped around the house, giggling like a school girl. When he had finally decided on what suit to wear, he was faced with the even greater challenge of deciding what gift to bring for this special, momentous occasion. Of course, when that was done, there was still the pasta to be made for breakfast.

He was just boiling the water when his disheveled brother stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen, searching for a quick bite to eat.

Italy greeted his brother. "Ve~! Good morning, Romano!"

Romano sneered. "Cosa stai facendo, Veneziano?"

"I am practicing English because I am meeting England at the airport, fratello! Big brother Francia-"

"Humph. Fratello? Francia? You sound like a prick when you speak both English and Italian at once."

"Huh? Oh, sì! Brother!" Italy beamed, and Romano rolled his eyes. "Big brother France told me that England was coming here on vacation. So I will surprise him at the airport!"

"What? That's it?" Romano scoffed Italy's notion of an important event, and muttered curses in Italian as he took out a tomato from the pantry and ate it raw.

Italy's cell phone vibrated loudly on the counter. If it were Italy's choice, he would have it ring, but Romano had insisted to keep it on vibrate so that it would not wake him up-which was a useless precaution, since Italy's voice was louder than the ring, anyway.

Italy left the stove and picked up the phone. "Pronto~!"

"Italy, you're not busy, right? Do you want to hang out?"

"Hello, America!" Italy returned to the pasta. "I'm meeting England at the airport today! But don't tell, it's a secret, ve~!"

"Well, hey, can I meet you guys there?"

Romano grabbed the phone from Italy's hands and shouted into it, "Leave my brother alone, bastard! He's not interested!"

"Oh, hey, Romano! Do you want to-"

Romano ended the call and returned the phone to a pouting Italy.

* * *

Germany typed away on his laptop outside of the Reichstag, waiting for his taxi to come. He was particularly upset today; the government meeting he had come for had ended one half hour ahead of schedule.

A whole half hour ahead of schedule!

Someone would surely be made to lose his job over this unforgivable blunder in time management.

His cell phone disrupted his work with a quick ring inside of his dress pants. Germany took the phone, opened it and answered, "Beilschmidt, guten Tag."

"Sup Germany! Let's hang out! What do you guys do for fun?"

Fun? How could America be thinking of such a thing at a time like this?

Oh, that's right, this was _America, _the nation with the least capacity to take things seriously_. _Except, maybe, for Prussia, or Italy.

What's Italy doing right now?

No, that's distracting, get back to work.

Germany wedged the cell phone awkwardly between his neck and ear so that he could continue to type. "Now is the time for work, not the time for play."

"Uh, I mean like, how about after work?"

Germany flipped through the day planner in his mind. "I have no vacations scheduled after work."

"You're uptight, man. Hey, why don't we get together as nations, then? You know, strengthen political bonds and all that jazz? You like that stuff, I think."

"Very well. I will consider your proposal and have it forwarded to my boss."

"Huh? No way, I want to hang out now! C'mon, why don't we just get a bite of disgusting German food to eat, maybe catch a movie?"

"Erm, maybe later."

"Pfft! This is the thanks I get for giving you all that money and stuff after the war?"

Germany clenched his jaw. It was, in fact, Germany who had paid America large amounts of money after the war, much more than America had paid Germany. In fact, Germany had paid a lot more than that-

"Ah, screw you! I don't need you, I've got plenty of stuff to do by myself."

Germany's brow twitched. "Very well."

"H-Hey, wait, don't-"

Germany removed the phone from his neck and closed it.

* * *

Japan blushed as his eyes deviated away from the moderately-rated fan fiction categorized under 'adventure,' 'hurt/comfort,' and 'humor,' and toward the less-moderately-rated fan fiction labeled as 'angst' and 'romance' on the computer screen. He even chanced rolling his mouse over the first link that caught his fancy and clicking it.

Thus, when his cell phone began to shake in the pocket of his jeans, Japan was nearly positive that someone was aware of Japan's indiscretion and was calling him out. Convinced that this unknown person had planted cameras in the room, Japan immediately quit out of the fan fiction tab and opened another one with a blank search engine. Flustered, he hastily opened his phone. "M-m-moshi moshi?"

"Listen, Japan! I need someone to hang out with, and you're usually a loner, so why don't we get together and watch anime?"

"America-kun?" Japan involuntarily let out a relieved sigh. "Are you here now?"

"No, but I can be there in a jiffy! I'll meet you at the airport, or even better, I'll parachute down to your house! C'mon, we can watch movies and stuff!"

Japan was reminded of the time he had watched horror movies with America. "I am deeply honored, America-kun, but I cannot, et, eto, have you come on such short notice. My house is not prepared for guests."

"Then come to my place, I'll pay for everything! Please, it'll be fun!"

Japan thought he heard a note of uncharacteristic desperation in America's voice. "Eto…"

"Well, what are you doing at your house right now?"

The otaku's cheeks tinged pink again, and he was glad that he was alone in the room. "Reading."

"Oh, that's boring! See, you're not doing anything. So, will you come over?"

"…Yes, America-kun… next week."

"Yay! Yay- Oh, next week? Well, all right, I'll get you a ticket and everything."

Japan heard America's sudden happiness fall with sudden disappointment as he spoke, and wondered if something was wrong with the world's greatest power. "Arigato."

"See ya soon, ha ha-"

The cell phone disconnected. Japan wondered if his service had failed or if America had hung up, but since America did not call back, Japan assumed the latter.

* * *

England covered his yawn with one hand while he stretched out in a first class window seat of the airplane. He wanted to look out the window, but the lights in the plane were dimmed so that the passengers could sleep. He, however, could not sleep anymore, so there was nothing to do except listen to music.

Thankfully, he knew he wouldn't pass much more time in the boredom of insomnia. Venice was only two and half hours away from Great Britain by plane. Well, it was actually flight to Milan, but that was close enough. He would take a train to Venice.

That's not to say the trip wasn't satisfactory so far. Granted, there had been problems when the plane landed and eventually the man at the gate had to direct England to board a different plane at a different gate. But the man had been nice about it, and even upgraded England to first class.

Even so, it felt like the longest two and a half hours of his life. How long has it been so far?

Feeling silly for his impatience, but curious anyway, England quickly turned on the screen built into the seat in front of him to check the time.

Four hours and fifteen minutes had elapsed since he had first boarded the plane.

"Ah, bloody hell!" He turned off the screen, unbuckled himself from his seat and went down the aisle. He asked the first stewardess he encountered, "Ma'am, where's this plane going?"

She smiled knowingly. "We're landing in JFK, sir. Is there a problem?"

England's eyes popped and he grabbed his hair to suppress his frustration. The stewardess laughed.

* * *

China was rudely roused from sleep a second time. Someone was banging at the door. Was it the police? No, the knock sounded polite. Maybe someone needed to use his ladder, or something.

All China did was comb his hair down before rushing down the stairs in his pajamas. He opened the door to meet a Western woman dressed in a navy blue uniform, with a helicopter at rest waiting behind her.

"Hello," she began in English, "We need you to come with us, Mr. Wang Yao. Don't worry about your dress; we have attire prepared for you."

"What now, aru?"

"The American government believes a financial crisis is imminent, and has requested to talk in secret with a diplomat of your country in order to prevent the problem."

China groaned at this inconvenience from America. That incompetent America, that lousy, lazy America. That America who depended on China to keep the world economy alive.

And vice versa.

China now figured that America must have called him earlier in order to talk about this, but had avoided addressing it directly. After all, China had hung up on him. Maybe he should've let America finish talking. In any event, it was China's duty to handle matters like this. "Fine."

The woman in the uniform nodded stoically and immediately escorted China to the helicopter.

A drowsy China rubbed his right eye as he boarded the helicopter.

* * *

France perked his eyebrows up when he noticed, through the kitchen window, that a peculiar stretch limousine of the black variety was parked outside of the residence.

A seemingly-distinguished American gentleman exited the vehicle and came walking up to the door.

France used those valuable seconds before the unexpected guest arrived to put away the wine, set his hair right, clean himself up, and more importantly, put on a pair of pants.

The door bell rang, and France calmly opened the door.

"Hello, sir, sorry to bother you at night. Are you Mr. Francis Bonnefoy?"

How typical of Americans to speak English and make no attempt at French. This always bothered France just a little, but then again, it was just another chance for him to boast his own mastery of a foreign language. Lifting his chin up and flaring his eyes, France replied, "Do not speak so loudly, love, or you will wake up the house."

"Yes, well then, Mr. Bonnefoy, my boss in the United States is a prominent businessman who wants to establish his business here in France. However, he has been unable to do so. He needs your pull in the French government. We're asking you to come to America so that we might arrange a business deal."

France wasn't surprised. He wasn't much of a businessman, but he knew that getting permission to run a business in his country was slightly less difficult and impossible than beating Ireland in a drinking contest. Even so, France was not interested in business. "I gracefully decline your offer."

"Are you sure? My boss is holding a large party in a day and there will be several important American gentlemen and ladies-"

France was interested now. "Like the Christmas parties there every year?"

"Um, yes, like that. The French government is-"

France thought about the American women he had picked up last time he had attended one of America's parties. "I would be delighted to come."

* * *

Russia was intercepted by the Americans in a slightly different way.

A helicopter landed in front of Russia's place. The two men not in the cockpit of the aircraft waited in the seats that were affixed on one side of the helicopter.

Each man was in uniform, and both were fully qualified for their jobs as small-time politicians. However, neither was comfortable with the task of bringing a scary Russian to the United States for no adequately-explained reason.

"It's your turn, go get him."

"No, when did we establish a turn system? You speak better Russian, so you should go get him."

"But I've heard he's a bit intimidating in person. What's this all for, anyway? Are we running a drill? This isn't even a military aircraft. "

"Well, duh, we're not military! Learn the difference. Anyway, this is probably a drill, since the pilots aren't taking this very seriously, either. I don't know why we need the Russians to participate in our drill, though. Now, you go get him and I'll wait here."

"Eh, we should go together. I'm sure he's a nice guy."

"I should hope so, da?" A new voice popped in.

The two men stopped. Sitting across from them in the plane was Russia, smiling with his bottle of vodka.

It was all the Americans could do not to shiver under Russia's strange and unexpected gaze. One of them chanced, "M-Mr. I-Ivan Bragins-ski?"

"Da."

"Um," he gulped, "We were going to… W-we're practicing a m-military o-operation-"

"Da, da. We go now." Russia blissfully drank his vodka, seemingly unaware of the fear emanating from the American envoys.

* * *

Italy was very worried. In fact, he was just about bawling into his cell phone all over the airport. England hadn't disembarked with the rest of the passengers from the plane, and that was two hours ago!

"Romano, what should I do? He's still not here and I told the people at the desk and they told me that everyone was off the plane and what if England is in a different airport and what if he never got on the plane and how can I give him my gift now and did I leave any pasta on the stove and what if big brother France was wrong about this and what if he lied to me and where is England!"

"_Oi, come home_!" Romano kept answering, though half-heartedly. He had failed to convince Italy to calm down for the past two hours and now Romano was hardly listening to his brother, choosing instead to watch television while holding the phone loosely to his ear. "_Forget the bastard and come home already_!"

"Excuse me, are you waiting for someone?" A new attendant came up to Italy. She was noticeably different from the other staff, if only for the fact that she was American.

"Ve~!" Italy jumped with joy that somebody was finally paying attention to him. He closed the phone, disconnecting Romano. "Hello! My friend is hiding in the gate somewhere! Can you go get him?"

"Do you mean Arthur Kirkland, sir?" She asked with a comforting smile. "He changed his destination. He is now flying to America. But he left a message with us saying that someone would be waiting for him here. Are you Feliciano Vargas, then?"

"Sì! Sì!" Italy gave the woman a quick hug. England shouldn't have known that Italy was waiting here, but Italy was too relieved to notice this discrepancy.

"Um, good. He wanted you to come meet him in the States. He even paid fare for you, and don't worry about packing. He said he packed enough to last for both of you." She handed Italy a ticket. "Now, let me walk you to your gate, sir."

Italy nodded ecstatically. "Ve~!"

* * *

Germany lay on his back, bench pressing the weight to the level of his chest, exhaling deeply as he did so.

"_Yeah, you can do it, West!_" Prussia encouraged, almost sarcastically. As was typical, he was given the job of spotting Germany, making sure that his beloved brother was safe during his training. Of course, what Prussia was actually doing was fooling around on Germany's laptop. The world's most awesome nation wasn't even looking at Germany. "_Just a few more pushes!_"

Just as Prussia's job was to spot Germany, Germany's job was to ignore Prussia's not-quite-encouraging comments. Inhaling sharply, he pushed the massive weight upward until his elbows were fully straight and locked, groaning a little as he did so.

Prussia smirked. "_Hey, you've got mail. Can I read it?_"

Germany brought down the weight again and let out his breath. "Nein." He wanted to continue his exercise, but he needed to check the email. Reluctantly, he brought the weight up once more again in order to rest it on the bench, and then sat up. He promptly yanked the laptop from his brother.

Popping up the web browser, Germany clicked the new mail, sent to him from one Alfred Jones, titled, 'Read this or something bad might happen!'

"_What does it say?_" Prussia asked casually, as if he did not care, as if he already knew, which he didn't.

Germany read it first to himself before reading it aloud. Not for the sake of his brother, but for the sake of the incredulity of the message. "Es sagt, 'come to my house right now. I just invented this kick-ass new car engine. I need you to build it for me. I made plenty of wurst, too."

Prussia snickered. America's words sounded funny in Germany's serious tone and heavy accent. "_Well, if America needs some German awesomeness, you should go, right? Although, I am much more awesome. I guess he doesn't have my email address." _Bored, or feigning boredom, Prussia idly picked up a dumbbell and started lifting it.

Germany was a little more dubious. Hadn't America called him earlier, asking that Germany come over? There had been no mentions of a car, and unless it had been invented entirely within the last few hours, America was making this up.

Unlike every other country before him, Germany came to the correct conclusion that America was lying and was simply trying to invite a friend over to play some stupid game or watch some stupid movie.

Then, another email appeared in his inbox. It was titled, 'Re: Read this or…!'

Germany grumbled and opened it. This, too, he felt compelled to read aloud, as a tense murmur:

"'By the way, I've captured Italy. Ha. Ha. Semi-colon, close parenthesis.'"

Prussia stopped lifting his dumbbell. "Eh?"

Rubbing his forehead, Germany took out his cell phone from his pocket and clicked the third speed dial. The first speed dial was an emergency number, and the second was his boss.

The Italian did not answer the call, and a voicemail played instead.

Germany shut his phone and slammed the laptop closed, marching out of the exercise room rigidly with his gadgets under his arm, once again fulfilling his ritualistic duty of ignoring Prussia. "Verdammt, America!"

* * *

Japan should not have stayed up so late reading fan fiction online. And he still refused to sleep any later than was normal for him, convinced that sleeping late would disturb his sleep schedule. Therefore, when he heard the cell phone on the charger ring in the other room just as he was rising from bed, Japan was slow to answer it.

When he finally made it the phone, the ringing had stopped. He opened it and listened to the message that had been left for him.

Beep. "Hey, Japan! America here! So, when I called last night, you said you'd visit me next week! Don't take it back, you totally said that! Well, it was Saturday last night, and today's Sunday, so I got you a ticket to come to my house today! It's attached to an email I sent you, so just download it and print it out and you'll be here in no time! I'll see you at the airport!" The phone beeped again.

America wants him to come? Today?

Japan stood there, face melting in bewilderment, seemingly betrayed by his own words.

* * *

England stared at the crazy young nation as America opened the emergency exit on board the plane. Well over half a day after this whole ordeal had begun, England was now fully aware that America was deceiving him in more ways than one.

First, England had arrived in New York, and who else could be waiting for him at the airport than his (former?) little brother, America. In his classic leather jacket with the large number fifty printed on back, with one strand of hair sticking eternally upwards, and a large sign in his hands that read 'Hi Arthur! Sorry About The Ruse,' America stood just outside the gate, laughing, his blue eyes beaming behind his glasses.

Second, England proceeded to throttle America, yelling a spectacular array of curses about his ruined vacation and wasted day, and how dare America manipulate England's own airport like that?

Third, America claimed that it was only fair because England had lied about when his plane to Venice was leaving, making England blush and fume a little more.

Ultimately, America convinced England to spend vacation time here in the United States, out of both convenience and guilt. But no, America's plans wouldn't in New York, of course not. England was forced to take another excruciatingly long plane ride to some other secret destination. And this time, they used a private jet.

And now, after several, several more wasted hours in which the only adequate distractions were reading a spare magazine that America provided, which was not quite up to England's taste, or being defeated time and time again by America in a handheld Japanese racing game, America pushed a parachute pack into England and opened the emergency exit in the jet.

The sudden rush of air made it impossible for England to curse loud enough to be heard. America grinned, snapped on a pair of goggles from the parachute pack and jumped off.

England looked out before jumping. There was nothing but water in the world outside of the helicopter, except for a very small island below. England was, as he would say, 'narked' beyond compare, but he was effectively trapped in a corner.

He followed the American.

* * *

China was brought to the island in the same way. Except, he was still under the impression that America was experiencing a financial crisis in need of Chinese intervention. Therefore, when the flight attendant handed him goggles and a parachute and directed him to the emergency exit, his temper exploded and he shouted furiously at the lady.

Actually, he was not alone on the jet. Japan was already on the small plane when China arrived. China asked if Japan was also here for the American crisis, to which Japan only stuttered and avoid answering directly. This made for a very uncomfortable and confusing journey.

Japan and China had been getting along fairly well nowadays. Plus, the fact that they were both in formal attire as opposed to military uniforms lightened the mood a little. However, they were joined more right now by the complicity of confusion than by the bonds of brotherhood. They played some Go and Chinese chess to pass the time.

The pilots were obviously busy, but the single American flight attendant asked if they wanted to play Chinese checkers with her, and they accepted.

"Did you know, that game is not actually Chinese, aru? Actually, my friend Jap-H-Honda here introduced me to it. The Japanese had the game before we did."

"Eto, we didn't invent the game, though. Germany had it first. Et, eto, the people in Germany."

Despite this kind of occasional uncomfortable conversation, they were all having a rather tolerable time. Therefore, when the lady suddenly opened the emergency door, asking with hand gestures that they jump out, China was not particularly angry with the lady but with the whole subterfuge that America had played. By the way everyone else on the plane was acting, including Japan, China had realized that there was no crisis. China still yelled at the lady, though, his curses lost to the wind.

The flight attendant only smiled and slightly pushed China to encourage him to jump off into the endless sea of water below. China felt his stomach scrunch into a knot.

Japan, on the other hand, was doing well to hide his inner surprise and mortification. In a way that kind of reminded China of the kamikaze planes, Japan jumped first off into the air.

Not to be bested by Japan, China leapt after him.

* * *

France realized too late why the car ride was taking so long. When the American representative with him in the limousine finally asked the chauffeur to stop, France looked outside into the dark night and saw a sign underneath a street light:

'Willkommen in Deutschland."

To France, this was a strange omen that was more baffling than it was frightening. "Germany?"

"Yes, we needed a German diplomat also. It's cheaper to fly you two together to America on one jet. I hope you don't mind?"

France only now began to wonder about the identity of the unknown American businessman. Across the road, a taxi had parked and was already waiting for them. France made a wager within himself. If the German diplomat was a normal German citizen, then France would not be concerned. If his suspicions were true and big muscle-bound Germany stepped out of that taxi, then this was all a trick played by America. If it was Prussia, then this was all a trick by either Prussia or Spain.

France started playing with his blond hair, flicking it back. "Of course not, love."

"Great. This is where I leave. The chauffeur will drive you to the plane." The American spoke rather quickly and left France alone in the limousine with the silent driver.

That was not great news.

France watched the American go over to the cream-colored taxi and open the door for the passenger.

Out stepped the dark figure of Germany, his large build constricted partially by his business suit. France shivered just a tiny bit. Indeed, this was all a ploy. Had Germany been tricked, too?

While Germany talked brusquely with the American, France focused on himself. He and Germany had very good relations, politically, and worked well together in business. That didn't change the fact that they were two very different personifcations of countries.

As a matter of fact, deep down, they were each scared shitless by the other. When they shared company, France's hedonism and perversity kept Germany at constant vigilance, always wary of any temptation that the persistent Frenchman might thurst without warning upon the German. Meanwhile, Germany's both obvious and obscure power as a country frightened France, and the competitive German work ethic threatened to force France to be as hard of a worker as Germany. One afraid of love and the other afraid of work, Germany and France held strong alliances but no tangible friendship to speak of.

The limousine door slid open, and the light inside of the car illuminated Germany's surprised and tired face as he noticed France lounging on the other side, a laptop in one of his large hands. "France?-is? Francis?"

Germany had not noticed the limousine driver initially, and had employed France's country name at first. Of course, Germany corrected himself, but to do so he had to use France's first name, instead of his last name. The use of the first name suggests a personal relationship, at least according to German customs.

This unfortunate slip of the tongue was only the beginning of the pink in Germany's cheeks and of his embarassment to come.

"Ah, L-Ludwig! What a pleasant surprise!" France twitched out a grin. "Uh, would you care for some wine?"

"Ja." Germany answered impulsively, and he instantly regretted that, too. Still, wine might help him last through this tribulation without popping a vein.

Of course, Germany was not ignorant enough to ask for beer. In France's country, beer was considered expensive and more of a luxury, while wine was cheaper and consumed with possibly every meal, or so Germany had discerned.

France stood to pour a glass of wine from the mini-bar. Already embarrassed, but still retaining his characteristic strength and composure, Germany sat down. He was polite enough to sit and wait by the mini-bar, as opposed to sitting down by the door, which is where he wanted to be. He also made the admirable effort to start conversation. "America is forcing you to visit him, too?"

France prepared two glasses of red wine, even as the limousine chauffeur resumed driving. He gave the first to Germany, who drank it gratefully. "Eh, n-no, he just lied to me about it. What do you mean by 'forcing'?"

The emphasis on that word choice almost made Germany choke on his wine. Well, actually, he did choke on it, but he swallowed it down anyway and fought back the coughing. He straightened his suit and pulled on his tie, keeping his voice and demeanor as formal as possible. "I only mean that he is threatening me."

"Well, there is n-nothing else we can do now but relax, non?"

This was conversation was nothing for France but was already too much for Germany. "I, uh, still have work to do." As sort of a nervous tremble, Germany briskly opened his laptop and set himself to work. Germany considered it fair enough that he did not kick France in the gut and convince the lazy man to do work of his own. France was far too self-indulgent, in Germany's mind.

France considered it fair enough that he did not take the laptop from Germany and load porn on it for them to watch. Germany was not self-indulgent enough, in France's mind.

And this was approximately how they passed several more hours together before they, too, awkwardly received the parachutes on board a private jet and were subsequently pushed off into an endless body of water.

* * *

Italy did not have to jump out of his plane. Or, rather, like England, he did not have to jump out of the first one.

The commercial flight he had been pushed on to did not bring him to JFK. Instead, Italy found himself in a Russian airport. Another American attendent found the confused nation crying again near the gate. She quickly and easily comforted him and escorted him to another, more private part of the airport.

"You will be boarding another, smaller plane, now, which will take you to America. Do you understand, Mr. Vargas?"

Happy to be guided, Italy nodded, "Yes, ma'am!"

The British way that Italy said "ma'am" confused the American woman, and made her wonder just how aware Italy was of his surroundings.

Nonetheless, they both left the airport building to the tarmac, where she directed him to a small jet waiting for takeoff nearby. With nothing else but the clothes on his back and the gift for England in his arms, Italy skipped up the mobile stairs into the plane, where a male flight attendent shyly guided him in. Despite the small size of the aircraft, it was obvious that this plane was not private because the seats were arranged as on a commercial flight. However, there was only one other passenger.

"Hello, comrade Feliciano. You come to see America also?"

Italy stopped and waved vigorously to Russia, who sat in one of the front rows, in the aisle seat. Relations between these two nations had been strong since the war. For one thing, both of them were keen on art, and it was not uncommon for Russians to study art in Italy or even to take vacations there. Italy was also the Western nation who had taken the most to Communism. "Ivan, hi~!"

"You appear ruffled and unprepared, comrade. But I know that looks are not everything. We do not drink water with our face, da?"

"Uh, sì!" This was another reason why Italy and Russia got along well. Italy's comprehension of his surroundings was so low that Russia's strange proverbs and superstitutions were no more confusing to him than the mannerisms of any other country, like why China frequently carried pandas around or why Romano often wandered off to Spain's house.

Italy's superficial level of thinking also kept him from noticing the dark, subtle shadows on Russia's face. Initially, Italy had been terrified of the tall country, but eventually learned to think of Russia as a nice guy, and someone can't be both nice and scary all of the time, right?

The plane was already preparing itself for takeoff, which, for some reason, meant that Italy had to take a seat. The brave and ignorant Italian sat next to Russia. Of course, when Italy came near, Russia sat up and moved over one seat to occupy the window seat, almost mechanically. Italy took the now-open seat and held on to the gift. "Ve~! You took the good seat!"

"It is bad luck to step over someone to get to a seat." Russia smiled, a shadow cloaking his face just a little. "I keep you from back luck, da?"

"Oh, thank you~!" Italy wondered momentarily just how dangerous Russian proverbs are.

"May I ask what do you have in the box?"

"Umm…" Italy looked down at the wrapped package. "It is, um, it's, a gift for you!"

Russia's face lit up somewhat and the shadow disappeared. "Da?"

Well, it was actually a gift for England. But this gift could be shared with other people, so it was really a gift for Russia, too. With the guilt fairy dusted off of his shoulder, Italy joyfully handed the box to Russia.

Russia contemplated whether it was safe or not to accept a present while sitting down. Deciding that it was safe, he still made sure to take the box with his left hand only, and then open it with both hands.

It was a wooden music box. Italy had made it for England, so the instructions written on the bottom were in English. Russia, however, didn't even see them, nor did he open the box.

"Thank you, comrade. I must wash off this new gift!"

Italy titled his head, more confused than usual. "…Is it dirty?"

Russia brandished his bottle of vodka, as well as second one for Italy. "This will ward off bad luck, da?"

"We need to wash it with vodka, ve~?"

"Da." Russia should have explained that in his country, gifts are "washed off" by drinking vodka. Italy managed to figure this out only when Russia drank all of his vodka in a few swigs.

The good feelings hanging in the airplane lasted for a long time. Leave it to Italy to throw them all out of the airplane as soon as the flight attendent gave them two suspicious orange backpacks and pointed to the emergency exit.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Review if you want.


	2. Welcome to Baker Island

All eight countries fell in the water by the southern shore of the island. China and Japan had been closer to start with so they arrived first, followed by America and England.

"There he is, there's America!" China, sitting on the sand with Japan, pointed to America falling into the water, England behind him. "I'm going to teach him a lesson for dragging us out here and making us ruin our suits, aru!"

Japan replied as soothingly as possible, "We should not attack him just yet, China-kun. He must know a way off of this island."

When America swam up to the shore, though, laughing his head off, China tried to silence it with a strangle hold. England and Japan kept China at bay, but they still asked America to explain what was going on. America only said, "Sorry, I can't start until the others are here!"

And with that, Russia floated in from the sky, as did Italy. They landed in the water and abandoned their parachutes to come ashore.

Italy ran up to England, full of hugs and thanks for leaving the message. This only caused England, however, to glare directly at America. Meanwhile, Russia stood off to the side, indirectly glowering at the world's most powerful country. By now, the other countries expected the island to fill up with countries, and the general sentiment of the group was notably anti-American.

Lastly, Germany plopped into the water, with France after him. They too escaped their harnesses and swam to land. Germany stormed up to America.

"How dare you trick and threaten us to come here for your stupid-!"

"All right, everyone, listen up!" America cut off the angry German, and found a large rock to stand on so that he could attract attention. This was pointless, though, because all eyes were already on him.

"Finally!" England rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, which was kind of uncomfortable because his sleeves were just as soaked as the rest of his ensemble.

"Welcome to Baker Island, four hundred acres of nothing but uninhabited grass and dirt!" America waved his right hand to the backdrop behind him. "The land is one mile wide, and about as long, too. This island has been mine since 1857, and I haven't used it for a while, so I had to clean it up before we all came here! I imported trees and sand and had base camps set up on the east and west ends of the island. I even got rid of the day beacon and the air strip so that we'd have plenty of room! Wasn't that nice of me?"

China shouted, "When do we get to go home, aru!"

"Not for a while! Nobody wanted to hang out with me; I called all of you guys." America grinned widely. "I wanted to do a reenactment of my revolution at my house next week, but England didn't want to come! So now, we're all going to reenact World War Two on this island together! Isn't that awesome!"

"Arsehole!" England murmured, but now all of the nations were feeling a little responsible for this situation. None of them had agreed to see America, except for Japan, but he said nothing about it.

"Well, you shouldn't have called us on such short notice!" Germany pointed out the obvious flaw in America's reasoning. "And now we're stuck here an indeterminate amount of time!"

"You got that right, Nazi!"

Germany froze. His face contorted in suppressed pain and frustration, and his blue eyes locked in place.

Japan was disconcerted, and Italy was frightened. The others made the effort to look away from the large German and keep their attention on America.

"Hey, don't be so serious! It's World War Two, now, baby!" America puffed out his chest. "Okay, time to get ready. Allies on the west, Axis on the east! I already broke enough rules having you guys come here paired up with enemies!"

That gave everyone except England a new source of embarrassment. Japan and China exchanged apologetic looks. Italy cried, but Russia seemed fine. France gave Germany a sorry face, even though Germany was still shell-shocked by America's coarse insult.

"What about the other countries?" Russia asked politely. "When will they arrive?"

"What other countries? Everyone who took part in the war is here, right?"

Even Italy shook his head. America's ignorance was something to be marveled at.

"By the way, you all have to play along, or we're staying on the island forever!" America chuckled and jumped off his rock. "Now, let's get going! By the way, I asked my guys to leave changes of clothes for everyone in the camps, so be sure to change. See you later, Axis powers! Meet us in the middle of the island in an hour!" He marched away, laughing maniacally.

They were all soaked, so they had to leave. Even so, no one moved until Russia began walking after America, smiling innocently. England grumbled and left with them, as did China. France hesitated, though.

America noticed that France was lagging behind and stopped to yell, "Hey, France, did Germany capture you already!"

France's eyes widened. Germany shut his eyes tightly, turned around, and walked away, his face red with anger and degradation. "Go on, France."

France watched his former enemy leave, and that was when he began concocting a plan. They may be reenacting the Second World War, but this time, somehow, he would defeat Germany!

France would get the self-hating workaholic to indulge for once.

Determined to win, the epicurean Frenchman joined his fellow Allies.

Japan was not given any orders but he still obediently followed the darkened Germany. Italy skipped alongside them, confused but oblivious. After all, Italy was his old friends again!

What could be better?

With that thought, Italy wrapped one arm around Germany's chest and one around Japan's neck. "Ve~!"

Japan blushed, and Germany face-palmed, wishing he could just sink into it and disappear.

* * *

"Don't you have any modern clothes, America? I don't wear this uniform anymore, aru!" China shouted from his tent.

"Ah, come out! I'm sure you look great!" With an unwavering grin glued to his face, America went into China's tent and pulled him out manually.

"He-Hey! Get out! Aru!"

"You're taking too long!" America picked the nation up and carried him outside.

"Release me! Release me at once- ow!" China was dropped to the ground, rewarding his clean pants with plenty of dirt. The dark green suit was a perfect replica of what he had worn during the war, and it even had the red band around his left bicep.

Russia came out of his tent, wearing exactly the same kind of outfit he always wears, which was a long, heavy tan coat. The only difference was that this one was not soaked with water and seaweed. The scarf, however, had not been replaced, yet was sparkling-clean anyway. "Do you not have any military uniform for me, America?"

"You wear a military uniform?"

England 'humphed' at America's ignorance. The British gentleman had already changed into his old green uniform. "Insufferable twit. I should box your ears for jerking us around like this!"

"Um, yeah, I don't know what that means."

"I believe it means to slap them, non?" France finally emerged from his tent, wearing a long blue coat and matching capelet with red pants. He had clearly taken his time with his hair and face, which were sparkling. "This style is rather outdated, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to, hmm, return to the basics."

"We're on a deserted island, aru!" China groaned at the French extravagance.

"Hey, you guys! No more fooling around; we've got to get this show on the road!" America looked up. "It's almost dark out, so we have to start the war now!"

England remarked, "You do realize that we cannot actually do anything without Poland here, right?"

"Who? Oh, yeah. Hey, that reminds of me a funny joke I heard."

"And we did not start the war, aru." China played a little with a frying pan he found near the bundle of wood, waiting to be used in a fireplace.

"No, but Germany and the Soviet Union started it, right?" America glanced at Russia. "So, go make an alliance with Nazi Germany, commie!"

Russia's face darkened and there was a glint in his eyes, but his relaxed body language suggested that he was actually enjoying this game. "Very well, capitalist pig."

It was probably a good thing that the 'pig' insult meant two very different things between America and Russia. America only thought that Russia was calling him greedy and contemptible, probably because Russia was envious of American wealth.

If America had known that the former Communist was actually calling him perverted, obscene, dirty, and evil, then maybe America wouldn't have laughed and replied, "You're just jealous!"

* * *

Japan and Germany had both deducted that given the width of the land, the whole island could easily be crossed within twenty minutes, even though America had said it was 'one mile' and not 'one point six one kilometers," which had quietly annoyed everyone. This gave them plenty of time to prepare for the war.

And no, it wasn't to prepare them for the Second World War, but for the war within themselves.

Poor Germany had not found respite within his tent. The uniform he was forced to wear resembled his old teal SS uniform, and there was even a Knight's Cross for him to wear, but on one sleeve of the jacket was a band with a swastika. As calmly as he could manage, Germany ripped the band into shreds before donning the suit and the cross.

He stepped back outside to see Japan in his old white outfit. Italy only had his old blue jacket on.

"Italy! Put on your pants!" Germany shouted, closed his eyes, and pointed sharply at the Italian's tent.

"But, Germany~! It's so warm outside!"

The German's left eyebrow twitched, and Italy quickly waved his white flag and retreated into his tent.

Japan, at least, was maintaining a calm and collected disposition. There was a wooden katana on his belt, but it was not Japan's, and he felt kind of strange having only a useless replica and not the real thing. "You look tired, Germany-kun."

"It has been a long day, Japan." Germany sighed and rubbed his face.

The two stood there in silence until Italy came back out, fully dressed. "Ciao, let's eat!"

"No, Italy. We have to meet the others in forty-five minutes."

Japan looked curiously at Germany. "Do you have a watch?"

Germany looked curiously at Japan. "No." The Japanese were certainly diligent workers, but they were not obsessive planners like the Germans, who made it their business to always be aware of the time. "I do have ein Handy, though." Germany took out his cell phone from his new pants. Miraculously, the phone did not seem to suffer from water damage. "Forty-three minutes."

"Oh, you have a phone, Germany?" Italy leaned over to the German to see what the photo on his phone was. "Aww, you don't even have a photo, ve~!"

Germany narrowed his eyes, turned his head to Italy, and closed his phone. "The phone is for business use only. In any event, there is no service in the middle of the ocean."

"Give me your number right now~!" Italy opened his own phone and clicked his way to the address book.

"No! Put that away."

"Here, give that to me!" Italy grabbed for his friend's cell phone. Germany pulled it away, but then Italy started jumping for it, and began pulling himself onto Germany's shoulder.

"Hey! Get off! Hör auf damit!" Germany kept his right arm elongated away from the Italian and pushed back with his left, working hard to keep the Italian at bay.

"Give it, give it, ve~!"

"Nein, you cannot have it! Stop this nonsense, Italy!"

Japan smirked a tiny bit and wondered if the camera in his own cell phone wasn't water damaged.

Germany ultimately pushed Italy down, and successfully kept his phone as far from the eccentric pasta-lover as possible. "It is for business use only. If I use it for personal calls, then it is no longer a business expense."

Italy stopped and allowed himself to think for a second. As he mulled over his options, Italy jumped up and down on the balls of his feet, causing the lone hair sticking out of the left side of his head to bounce. "Okay~!"

That ridiculous curl distracted Germany, so he looked off to the side. "Good."

"Aww, Germany's blushing!" Italy lifted up his cell phone and clicked a button on the side. Before Germany could refute Italy's claim, a flash went off from the phone's camera and blinded the large man. Italy brought the sceen close and admired it. "Germany looks so cute, ve~!"

"What!" Germany quickly snatched the device from the smaller man's hands with his left hand and stared at the picture. It was true; he had been blushing, and now his embarassment was surely giving his face an even redder hue. He harshly muttered "Scheiße!" and deleted it with a few twitches of his thumb.

He gave the phone back, or reached out to give the phone back, but Italy was no longer on his left side. Instead, he was now on the German's right, standing in front of Germany's now-empty outstretched right hand. Italy had taken the Handy and was entering his own number into it.

Italy smiled and accepted his phone back, and put Germany's number in it. "Grazie~!"

"…But…" Stunned and humiliated, Germany became completely motionless, looking like an idiot with one arm completely outstretched and the other slightly outstretched. His hard stare at Italy did nothing to discourage the Italian's happy humming and typing.

Japan quietly put his own phone away.

* * *

America, China, England, and France went prone on a small overhang in the ground, giving them something like a commanding view of the land. On an island whose highest elevation was eight meters above sea level, it was difficult to have much of a geographical advantage.

Russia waited in the small clearing ahead, where apparently America's guys had been lazy when planting trees. But that was keeping in mind that all of these trees had managed to grow so high only within a day. This elicited more than one remark about American overuse of chemicals from England.

On the other side of the clearing, Germany, Italy, and Japan appeared.

"Hey, Japan, Italy! Get off the field!" America called out, revealing the location of the hidden Allies, and instantly everyone around him groaned. "This is the Nazi-Commie meeting of 1939, so you guys aren't in the war yet!"

China growled, "But I was at war with Japan from 1937, aru! He started taking my home in 1931!"

Italy added, "I took Albania in 1938, and I had Ethiopia by now, too. I made the Pact of Steel with Germany earlier in 1939, ve~!"

Germany murmured, "I already had Austria and Czechoslovakia…"

"And I was fighting Russia at this time." Japan said quietly.

"You should have researched this better, America. And besides, what about the Munich Agreement in 1938?" England propped his shoulder up and rested his head on his hand. "But what else could be expected from the yank who joined the war a couple years late?"

"In retrospect, we should have noticed sooner that all of this was going on, England." France was filled with a sentimental nostalgia, seeing everyone dressed in old uniforms.

"Fine, just assume that the other stuff happened already!" America made gestures with his hands, as though he were an Italian directing a play. "Germany and Japan, make your doomed agreements with Russia in the clearing there! Italy, go hide somewhere!"

Italy nodded with a giggle, ran to a nearby tree, and climbed it. He sat at the top of it and watched.

Germany stepped forward to meet Russia first. Japan, honoring historical accuracy, waited.

"Treaty of Non-Aggression between Germany and the Soviet Union, 1939-!" America shouted out, but England clamped a hand over his mouth and pulled him down to the ground.

"Belt up, already!" England released him.

America gave England a funny look, adjusted his glasses, and then pulled up his pants.

"Idiot, I don't mean that literally!" England slapped America on the back of his head. "It means, shut up! So, shut up!"

Out in the middle of the clearing, reenacting one of the worst times of his life, Germany felt very dark indeed. Why was America making him repeat this nightmare? He didn't know what to say to Russia, so he simply muttered, "Guten Tag."

"You come to form non-aggression pact with Soviet Union, da?" Russia's violet eyes contracted and shined at the same time. He suddenly seemed a lot taller than the German, and was his forehead always so much darker than the rest of his face?

"Ja…" Germany couldn't quite look at those eyes. Instead, he kept looking between Russia's neck and the trees in the distance behind Russia.

America laughed in the background. "El-oh-el, look at Germany!"

"Belt up, wanker!" Another slap brought silence to the audience.

"In the event that either one of us is attacked," Russia leaned forward, and slowly his smile tightened. "The other will remain neutral in the conflict. Do you agree?"

"Yes." Germany did not want to be laughed at by America, so he straightened himself and chanced to look Russia in the face.

"Furthermore, we divide Europe into German and Soviet spheres of influence, respectively. We start with Poland and the Baltics. I take back my land, and you, take, back, yours." He smiled widely again. "Da?"

Germany nodded slowly. His gaze now locked on Russia's but the contours of his face still betrayed his true sentiments about this situation and his memories of the war.

As much as Germany tried to ignore it or suppress it or even bask in it, there was no cure for the peculiar ailment that he suffered from. Germany himself thought of his disorder as 'anti-nationalism.'

Others would have called it 'self-hatred.'

"Then our agreement is done." Russia extended his right hand. "We shake, da?"

German looked down at the hand. Should he shake it, knowing full well that he would break this pact in 1941 and directly invade the land of the Soviet Union? No, that would be ridiculous.

"You can do it, Germany!" Italy shouted from his perch in the tree, dangling his legs, and Germany looked back at the small nation. "Make lots of friends, okay~?"

"Damn it, Italy, shut up! You're not in this!" America shouted.

"Bái chī!" China whacked America's rear with a frying pan. "Italy can talk; he is allied with Germany!"

America yelped, rubbed his butt, and sneered, but otherwise remained quiet.

Russia waited patiently with one hand out and lips curved up.

Germany reaffirmed to himself that Italy was truly the most idiotic nation in the world. Only that and nothing else could explain Italy's undying loyalty to Germany, a despicable country.

The powerful but troubled nation took a deep breath through his nose and embraced his next move as an ultimate expression of his fierce anti-nationalism.

Germany's blue eyes opened wider, full and glazed.

He clasped Russia's handed with great strength, and he declared, "Nazi Germany pledges to keep this agreement… until… Operation Barbarossa at 03:15 on Sunday, 22 June 1941. I will have made plans with Finland and Romania by then," the man darkened, "and we will start with Russian-occupied Poland. Please forgive me."

Italy stopped dangling his legs.

Russia's own demeanor became softer, but his shaded eyes and wide smile shined gloomily through it all. "At least we will both have begun preparations long before then, da?"

Germany let go of Russia's hand and nodded solemnly.

Japan stepped forward to relieve Germany of his pain. "You are done here, Germany-kun. It is my turn."

"Ja." Germany stepped back a few feet, then turned around and left the grassy stage. He picked a tree- not the one with the watching Italian- and stood behind it. He nearly fell as he leaned one shoulder on the bark, gripping himself in anger and hiding himself rom the world.

"Huh? What's going now?" America asked insensitively.

China whispered something into his hear.

"Oh, okay." Then, America shouted, "Soviet-Japanese Border Wars, 1938-1939!" This earned him more funny looks from the other Allies.

"Please, stop that, mon cher." France gave America a pat on the shoulder.

Japan was a more composed actor than Germany. He said to Russia simply, "We sign a cease fire in Moscow. The Nomonhan Incident is over."

"You mean, the Battle of Khalkhyn Gol?" Russia grinned more innocently now. "And you concede to a decisive Soviet victory?"

"Yes. The borders of Mongolia are safe." Japan did not make any uneasy twitches. He merely shook hands with Russia and returned to his friends.

"That dispute was between Manchuria and Mongolia!" China mumbled. "Manchuria belongs to me, me, and I'm not even in this scene…"

The reenactment was over. Russia returned to the Allies. "I am enjoying this game. What shall we play next?"

"There's more? But night is falling, aru." China could already see stars in the sky.

"The sun's still up, though! Let's do one more event!" America tapped his chin with his finger. "I think we can fit in the Munich Agreement!"

That ignorant remark elicited a snap from the British gentleman. "You are an intolerable idiot!" England screamed. "The Munich Agreement was in 1938! Weren't you listening to me!"

"Oh." America scratched his head. "Bummer."

England couldn't stand this. How could America be so dense? If only to give himself a reprieve from such idiocy, England looked off to the side and suggested, "Fine, we can push it up a year. We'll just make it our sleeping arrangements for the night, all right? So, everyone who attended the Munich Agreement sleeps in the Axis camp, and everyone else sleeps at the Allies camp."

America contemplated the idea superficially for two seconds before shouting, "Great idea, England! You pansies can go work out an agreement while the rest of us get some sleep! Ha, perfect." America stood up. "Hey, Axis losers, listen up!"

Italy looked over to the Allies and waved, though rather weakly. Japan also gave them his undivided attention. Germany was probably listening but he remained hidden, standing behind his tree.

"Anyone who signed the Munich Pact, go to the Axis camp! Meanwhile, all the cool people sleep in the Allies camp!" America laughed and marched away.

However, America didn't know who exactly had attended that conference. He silently hoped that he wouldn't be sleeping alone in his camp tonight.

"Well, France," England stood. "Time to repeat history's mistakes."

"I do hope America comes to his senses soon." France rose and dusted the dirt off of his pants. "If not, we may have to live through the whole war again."

England and France walked toward the Axis powers, while Japan left his old friends to follow America, China, and Russia.

"Ciao, Japan~!" Italy waved and climbed down the branches. "Germany! England and France are coming to your house again, ve~!"

"I know! Be quiet." Germany replied dully, and came out from behind his tree.

Italy rushed to meet his old friend, expecting to be scolded by the strong German soldier.

Instead, Germany only looked at Italy with a combination of anger and resignation. Even though his shoulders and chin were kept up, and he stood as straight as ever, Germany was clearly suffering from something.

"Wah! Germany is sick!" Italy started crying. "We're stuck on an island and Germany needs a doctor!"

Germany narrowed his eyes, straining to keep his voice low. "I am not ill. Be quiet!"

"Hey, Italy! Germany! I say we make a different agreement tonight!" England pouted as he approached them with exaggerated slowness. "I say, we don't reenact anything at all and we lie to America about it in the morning."

"Ve~! Okay, but Germany is sick and what if he gets really sick!" Italy jumped about, gesturing widely. "What if he ate something that was really bad and he throws up and look at him, he has stomach pain-!"

Germany growled. "That's enough. Italy." With a few small looks at England and France, Germany turned away and led the march back to the Axis camp.

France began to shake. "Ah! G-Germany-y is m-mad at us!"

"Huh, what did we do?" England crossed his arms. "Maybe he's just upset about that awful reenactment!"

"He needs a doctor, ve." Italy replied sadly. "He ate bad food on the plane..."

France knew that wasn't true, because he had been on the same plane as Germany. Even so, France realized that this would be a perfect excuse for him to execute his plan. "Is that so?" He wore a comforting smile. "Well, then, I know how we can, eh, fix his stomach pain, non?"

Italy hoorayed, but England knew better than Italy.

* * *

Relieved that at least a few nations had not met at Munich in 1938, America yawned and stretched his arms up. "Ah, man, how awesome is this war? Pretty awesome, right? Hey, we should play something before we go to bed!"

"Here's a game for you, America: help make us some dinner, aru!" China found a match and lit the fireplace after a few tries.

"Where are the food and the water?" Russia also looked around. "You did bring food and water, da?"

"Yeah, but…" America drew closer to his Allies and away from Japan. "I can't show you guys the stash while the enemy is here!"

"Why not? Japan needs to eat, too!" China started looking around for any hidden trenches in the dirt. "And you're the only one of us who has a way off of the island, aru! We all need to keep you alive until we are home."

"Heh, true. Sometimes I forget how powerful I am." America went to his own tent and brought out some food to eat, plus bottles of water.

"You hide food in your tent!" China clenched his frying pan tightly. "Wǒpēi, aru!"

"Hey, quit shouting profanities at me that I don't understand!" America placed a rotisserie spit in front of the fire, armed with a large carcass of meat. "Check out that big hunk of meat, ha ha! Who wants to rotate the rotisserie? I bet Russia wants to do it!"

"That is a lot of meat, America. We share it with the others, da?"

"No way! They've got their own food." America laughed and picked up a can of diet soda. "…Although, we could share if there's too much. I don't want animals coming into my camp!"

Russia sat down to spin the rotisserie, and China worked to make the fire bigger. Feeling useless, Japan impulsively collected all of the soaked clothes that were lying around. "America-kun, where is a clothes line that I can use?"

"Uh, sorry, I don't have one."

"Is there soap or detergent available?"

"Probably." America gave a cursory glance to his belongings and spotted a box of detergent. "Yep, here you go." He offered the large box to Japan.

Japan's hands were already full with clothes. "Oh, eto…"

"Need help with that?" With one hand occupied with the detergent, America took the five filthy suits with his other hand, including the shoes and the soda can. Eager to prove himself to be the world's strongest country, he also grabbed a wheel of rope, balancing it on the arm that also held the detergent. "Here, we can use this for the clothes!"

That was all well and good for America, but now Japan was useless again. "Eto, America-kun, please allow me to wash those…"

Japan tried to take the clothes back, but America pulled them away. "Okay! I'll carry them for you, though, cause I'm the hero! No one can do anything without me!"

"Ha, hai?" Japan blushed, and followed as America sauntered away.

Satisfied with the fire, China sighed and sat down. "I should have never decided to rescue America from any financial crisis, aru…" He briefly closed his eyes out of exhaustion, but immediately remembered that he had to keep an eye on Russia and opened them again.

Seemingly unaware of China's careful gaze, Russia kept his right hand on the rotisserie spit while his left hand probed his coat for a bottle of vodka. However, his hand felt something else, something wooden. He produced it and found the music box that Italy had given him earlier.

Russia had never even opened it. With the curiosity of an innocent child, Russia sat the thing on the ground and opened it. Music began to play.

"Hmm? What is that sound?" China stood up and circled around the fire to look at the box. "Oh! Did you bring that, aru?"

Russia stared at the toy. If the box was Italian, then why was the music distinctly Spanish? Russia was not very familiar with Spain but as a patron of the arts, he was very familiar with Western music in general.

China looked shrewdly at Russia. Since the dissolution of the Soviet Union, relations between these two countries became steady and acceptable, despite the occasional border dispute. Their military connections were good, but Russia refused to sell China any modern weapons technology because he knew that China would end up copying it. They also worked together economically in free markets, but this was mostly because they shared a common enemy in the global economy.

And they would never let America be the sole economic superpower.

But that didn't change the fact that Russia frequently stalked China, especially during the Cold War. China was always a little suspicious of the tall and intimidating nation, and the occasional shadows lingering on his face.

The music box seemed safe enough, so China picked up the box and looked at it. "Hmm? I wonder if I could make this at home, aru?"

Russia smiled. His head rolled a little to the side, and his eyes moved away from the music box to rest on China's shoulders. "You keep the box, comrade."

"Huh?" China lowered the box to look at Russia.

"It is gift, da? You have it now."

"Oh, uh…" China wondered why Japan and America were taking so long. "That's nice of you, but-?"

"Good! We wash off this new gift together." Russia gave China a magically-appearing bottle of vodka. He also opened one for himself. "Da?"

"Uh, s-sure?" With a shrug, China opened his bottle and poured vodka over the music box.

"Ah, the box!" Startled, Russia pulled the box away and dried it with his sleeve. "Careful, comrade, you spilled your vodka!"

China blinked and his face twitched pathetically. "Oh… m-my bad-d, I g-guess?"

* * *

"This is so awful!" England whispered harshly, trying not to be heard by the former leader of the Axis powers who had retired to one of the other tents. "I will have no part in this! Italy, please tell France to stop this madness at once!"

Italy shook his head. "I want Germany to be happy again! I'll do anything for him, ve~!"

"That's right, Italy!" France smirked deviously, fiddling with Italy's new costume, made of spare linens and parts of his old outfit that had not been ruined in the ocean. "This will make Germany feel all better, I promise! England, mon cher, why don't you go keep watch outside if you insist on making me tailor the clothes by myself?"

"Absolutely not! I don't want to chance an encounter with an angry German!" England grabbed part of the blanket that they had found in Italy's tent and started measuring out a length of it to match his own height. "Here, I'll help. Satisfied?"

"Not particularly, as I am fully aware of your taste in clothing." France took the blanket away from England. "And I am using this blanket, thank you."

"Bloody frog." England brooded aloud and sat in the corner of the tent. Then, he realized that there was a problem. "Wait, where am I going to sleep? The Axis camp has only three tents. And I am not sharing a tent with you, France!"

"Oh, do not worry about that, love." France whipped out a pocket knife that he had found in the camp and cut off some material from Italy's sleeves. "I have a feeling that Italy won't be sleeping in this tent tonight."

England rubbed his face with both hands. "I have to get out of here…" He stumbled out of the tent as if in a daze. "If France does anything funny, Italy, just shout or something! I need a drink."

"Ve~? France tries to be funny a lot, but I don't understand his jokes most of the time! Ciao~!" Italy waved goodbye to England with both hands.

Italy's rude remark, and his sudden movement that almost caused France to cut Italy's shoulder, gave France a total of two reasons to roll his eyes. "Ah! Hold still, Italy!"

"Yessir!"

England failed to find any beer in the camp but he located a sake barrel dated ten months old in Japan's tent. From past experience England knew that sake was a typical Japanese liquor, and that it was best consumed when it was about a year mature, so at least America had gotten something right when planning this whole farce of a world meeting.

With a shrug, England opened the barrel and poured some of it straight into one of the small ceramic cups by the barrel, completely neglecting to use the ceramic flask nearby that Japan would have used to serve the sake. Japan probably would have diluted the sake with water first, too.

England brought the cup to his lips and drank some. It tasted sweet, sort of like apples. England decided that this was a satisfactory replacement for beer and drank some more.

He had forgotten, though, that even the least potent sake available in Japan has twice the alcoholic content of the most potent beer available in England. By the time England remembered this trivial fact, he was already singing out profane songs from his homeland, thereby disconcerting one former Axis leader who was trying to get some sleep in a neighboring tent.

* * *

"Maybe we need some chicks on this island." America gulped down the diet soda, lounging about on the shore. "Or we could use some guns. It's a World War Two reenactment, and still they insist that I can't bring guns here, cause it's all protected and stuff! Bosses, huh?"

Japan kept his face impartial while scrubbing China's suit. He had already cleaned America's, Russia's, and France's, though for that last one Japan had asked to borrow America's gloves.

America swung his arms in half-circles. "Well, I see I'm distracting you with how cool I am. I guess I should go and let you work on the clothes there." America slowly stood up and ambled about, pretending to leave but really trying to get Japan's attention. "Yeah, I wouldn't want Russia and China to miss me!"

That completely unfounded speculation caught Japan's attention and he looked up from the suit. "Eto, America-kun, I don't think that they would miss you-"

"Oh, did you say something, Japan?" America turned away, then turned his head back to Japan and made it look like he was already leaving.

Japan looked back down at the business suit. America wasn't trying very hard to hide his social desperation, was he? The quiet, composed nation sighed. "Please, do stay, America-kun."

"Oh, are you sure?"

Japan grimaced slightly. "Hai."

"Great! I mean, that's all good, right?" America joyfully sat back down, closer to his friend. "Hey, thanks for agreeing to come, Japan! Not that I would've taken no for answer, but thanks anyway!"

"Yes…" Japan had not anticipated that the world's currently-strongest nation would even remember the cell phone conversation from before.

"It was getting kind of lonely around my house, you know? I mean, sometimes I hang out with my brother, whatshisface. And sometimes I think that he's around but I don't see him around, and it feels like there's a ghost! It's scary! You ever get that feeling?"

"Canada-kun?"

"Yeah, him." America finished his soda. "Ech, this soda sucks. I want some real soda. Oh well, that's the price I pay to be on a diet!" And with that sentiment America swapped out his soda can for a package of French fries.

Japan wanted to set America's mind straight about the real nutritional value of fast food but decided against it. Instead, he calmly set China's suit to dry on the clothes line and moved on to England's.

"France's food is usually strange, but at least he got these fries right!" America boasted his incorrect knowledge, and once again Japan kept quiet. "Maybe I should tell him to keep making more food like these. Really, I haven't seen him much lately. France and I, we should get together more, so I can show him how to make real food!"

The island nation only nodded as he took a brush to a dirt stain on the suit's collar.

"You get what I'm saying, Japan? Besides for the world meetings, I hardly get to see you, you guys anymore. And the last time I got to really chill with you other, less cool nations must've been, uh, like, I don't know," America popped a fry into his mouth. "World War Two."

Japan stopped his brush.

Oh.

His normally stoic face was lit with surprise, empathy, and even some bashfulness. "America-kun-"

"Oh, are you done?" America smashed up the now-empty package of fries and put it in his pants. "Finally! I'm so hungry, I could eat a cow!" He took England's suit away from Japan, put it on the clothes line, and marched back to the camp. "Come on, hurry up!"

Until now, Japan hadn't realized that America was so lonesome that he would strand seven other countries with him on an island, just so that he would have sympathetic friends!

Japan followed America, walking closer than before.

* * *

"England, please stop that singing."

The plea, made by someone outside of the tent, was ignored by England, who didn't even hear it. He just kept dancing around Japan's tent with a cup of sake in his hands, singing a slur of words that were supposed to be part of an old folk limerick.

"Please stop, England."

England heard it this time but he still ignored it, and cursed loudly. Every time he missed a word in one of the songs, he would swear, and he missed a lot of them.

"England, please shut up!"

England almost tripped over his own feet when he finally recognized that someone was talking. "Ey, so you think you can, hic, tell me what to do, cheeky bastard! I'm, hic, the greatest empire in the world!" England put the cup down and stumbled blindly out of the tent.

The neighboring tent was closed up. England now remembered that Germany was in the tent. Through the dense fog of alcohol England thought hard and tried to remember who Germany was.

Relations between England and Germany had once been laudable. Closely connected royal families and a clear geographical boundary between them had made them close allies. That was, of course, until the First World War came along, which also happened to the first war ever in which England and Germany were enemies. World War Two certainly didn't help things, either. Since the Second World War, associations between them were best described as lukewarm.

Still, an inebriated England is an irritable England. "You think you're better than me, just because you're, hic, a wealthier country, you get along better with your siblings, and, hic, you have a cute friend who follows you around while I've got no one? Well, hic, that's just smashing!" He staggered back and gave Germany's closed tent the two-finger salute.

Ironically, England's two-finger salute resembles the victory sign that America had made at the end of the Second World War, only with the palm of the hand facing in. It's meaning, however, was closer to that of America's flipping of the bird.

England wavered on his quivering legs before he fell down to the ground on his rear. Confused by the subtle change in elevation, he started drawing circles in the dirt. "Gah, I'll show you what happens when you humiliate me, Germany…!"

The tent opened, and a large, irked nation loomed over England. Dressed in his pajamas and seeming exhausted beyond a mere lack of sleep, Germany's face was colored with both embarrassment and anger. "Please get out of here."

"Try all you want, but you can't stop my fairies!" England chuckled darkly, etching more shapes and curvy lines in the rubble.

"Get up." Germany grabbed the drunken gentleman by the collar and began hoisting him off of the ground.

"Ah, release me, brute!" England fought back. "You're going to attack me again, hic, with your bloody Luftwaffe, hic, aren't you!"

Germany recognized the allusion to the Blitzkrieg and reluctantly let England back down. "…No." Germany glared sharply. "You are clearly drunk, England. Go to sleep."

"Ah, just a bit, hic, squiffy, hic, you bastard!" England wrote a few Latin inscriptions down before adding more geometric shapes. "A clockwise circle, chevron, clockwise circle, anti-clockwise circle…"

"England, stop this nonsense at once!"

"Ha ha, like I said, try all you want! You can't, hic, distract me from my spell, hic!" England slowly stood up, balanced himself by holding his hands out, and then brought his palms them together. His eyes were pools of darkness and his face bore an evil smirk. "I curse you, Germany-!" England failed, though, and fell again.

"And Italy thought that I was sick…" Germany groaned. In any event, he helped England back up and waited with boredom for the Brit to finish. After all, as soon as England was finished with his ridiculous game, Germany would be able to bring him back to Japan's tent, and then everyone could get some sleep.

"Trying to play, hic, nice cop with me? That won't, hic, work!" England shoved a finger in Germany's chest, earning a decisive frown. "You're not that great! Just because you, hic, have more friends and a cute boyfriend-"

"Nein! I do not have these things!" Germany's intense bark made even the drunk England cower a little. "I have few friends, and on that other point, I..." Germany rubbed his brow with two fingers.

It seemed a common joke among the former Allied powers to pair Germany up with Italy. This was certainly not the first time that England had made this accusation, and damned if it would be last. Germany did not understand why they continued to punish him this way, after giving them so much already. In fact, Germany did not fully pay off war reparations from World War One until just recently, in September of 2010! Why did they persist in tormenting him with talk of Italy?

Ugh, Italy. After the wars, Germany had remained allied with the blubbering nation during the Cold War. The two came out of World War Two in miserable states, but Germany worked like a madman to repair their economies, as his whole population worked hard for longs hours at full capacity to rebuild itself. Italy, on the other hand, stumbled upon some resources in his land that could be used in the production of steel, and he also sold fashionable clothing and cars, but he had intended this to be more of a hobby and less of a business venture. In any event, Germany and Italy experienced economy booms and became two of the most well developed countries in Europe.

Of course, there were some discrepancies between these very dissimilar entities. For example, Germany insisted on investing money, while Italy had the tendency to spend carelessly. And Germany was Italy's most important trade partner, even though the opposite was not necessarily true. Still, all things considered, they were very close countries, weren't they?

Germany thought about the third speed dial in his cell phone, the one that Italy had not known about when he had stolen Germany's phone, merrily oblivious to the fact that Germany had already recorded his cell phone number long ago and kept it as the third speed dial, just in case.

Yes, they were close friends, and that was all they should ever be.

Germany laid a heavy hand on England's shoulder. "I understand what you are saying, but I could never have… a boyfriend, as you say. I only want to sleep!"

"Huh?" England twitched an eyebrow. "You don't like Italy?"

"I said nothing about Italy!" Germany roared fiercely, to hide his indignity. He made sure to stay quiet so as to try and not disturb the other two people in the camp, but it was enough to make England shield himself with his arms. "Besides, Italy certainly could never be my boyfriend!"

England lowered his arms, seeming almost offended. He thought about the sudden worthlessness of all of France's work. "…What? R-really?"

Germany realized too late what he had said, and face-palmed. "Verdammt… I mean-"

"Never…? Never, you say?" England slowly grinned again. "Ha, we'll see!" He drew a few more shapes into the dirt, stood as erect as possible, and declared, "I, hic, curse you, Germany!"

"..Fine." Germany's tired reply was muffled by his hand.

"I curse you, hic, to be…" England's sinister smile was truly murky and bizarre. "To be stranded on this island until you admit your love for Italy!"

Germany lowered his hand and stared, almost too incredulous to be ashamed.

"In fact, I curse all of you damn nations, who take your happiness and friends for granted, to be stuck on this island!" England shouted into the sky. "By my magic, I curse everyone to remain here until they admit their loves! Ha ha ha ha! No one can stop my magic, the power of the pixies and the fairies!"

Germany's patience could only last so long. "Menschenaffe!" He grabbed England again and threw him into Japan's tent.

England rolled up against the small bed. Of course, England understood enough German to know that Germany had just called him an ape. But England didn't know that in Germany, an ape is someone who is mad, crazy, drunk, and raging.

Understanding the insult to mean that he was dirty, England fell onto the bed, dusted off his sleeve and yelled back, "Well, I wouldn't be, if America hadn't stranded us on an island!"

* * *

Thanks for reading, again! I hope you've enjoyed it so far. I will probably write more so, I dunno, come back in a month or so?


	3. Blitzkrieg or Sitzkrieg?

Hello again! The encouragement that you random strangers have given me has prompted me to update earlier than I thought I would. So, here it is.

By the way, this story will remain at a T rating so that more people will be able to enjoy it if they want. I think the T rating is needlessly high as it is, but it's just to be safe.

Enjoy!

* * *

A bright sun welcomed Baker Island in the morning, catching the Axis camp on the east side of the island first. The light poured into the tent, waking Germany before the other nations. Confused by the contradiction between the current time and the time he was supposed to awake in his homeland, Germany quickly realized that he was not at home, and remembered the scheme that America was playing on all of them.

Germany looked up at the roof of the tent, momentarily shielding his eyes. Thanks to his unplanned vacation, his schedule was entirely ruined. What was he supposed to be doing right now? Well, for starters, he should sit up.

There was snoring coming from under the sheets, to his right.

"Pfui, Italy. I never see him coming, but he always finds a way…" Germany sighed and removed the covers. "Italy! It is time to get-"

What!

A furious, fretful Germany yelled at the smaller country. "I-I-Italy!"

"Ve~!" Italy woke up with a start. "Oh, hey, Germany~! Do you feel any better-?"

Germany's shuddering made the entire bed shake. "I-Italy, w-what the hell are y-you wearing!"

The adorable Italian looked down at his clothes and grinned. He was wearing the frilly green and white dress that France had made for him. In order to do so, France had used Italy's and Japan's suits, but that was okay! As long as this made Germany feel better, Italy didn't mind at all.

And the dress had been made in just a few hours, too! For one thing, the material had already been made. Plus, France was skilled at making clothes. But another reason that the construction had taken so little time was that France had used an old design. The dress that France had made resembled the smaller one that he had made for Italy when they were younger.

This repetition wasn't lost on Germany.

"Take that dress off this instant!" The buff nation shrieked and shook his head. "I will take absolutely no excuses, Italy!"

"But Germany, I wore this to help make your sickness go away~!"

"N-Nein! I insist that you take it off!" Unfortunately, Germany recognized his poor choice of words as soon as they left him. "I, I mean, change into something else! No, I, I mean-"

"Why is Germany stuttering?" Italy seemed concerned. "Does that mean he feels better, or worse?"

Germany couldn't think clearly. He quickly jumped off of the bed onto his feet, staring accusingly at Italy. However, that stare was only made to hide another, more humiliating stare of interest and distraction.

This was just another burden that came along with Italy's friendship. Of course, there was the completely imaginary romantic tension between them that England had joked about last night. And on top of that, Germany may have told Italy more than once, "I don't hate you," or "No, r-really, i-in fact, ich liebe dich," in order to assuage Italy's childish fears that Germany hated him.

But this was a different dilemma altogether. Luckily, Germany had been spared from this particular problem until one Valentine's Day, when an innocent misunderstanding left them in a bizarre situation in which Italy was panicking and Germany was struck silent, his brain smoking from a fire of new emotions.

Germany had seen images of a young girl, of a young Italy, buried in his memories.

However, Italy's clear confusion and terror had rendered the tomato ring in Germany's hand useless anyway. After everything was said and done, they continued to remain close friends, or in any case, as close as Germany had ever been with anyone.

Yet those secret images of a young, effeminate Italy remained in his head.

"I do not want to see you wearing any dresses!" Germany grabbed one of the replicas of his old uniform and threw it at Italy. "I order you to put this on, now!"

"What's wrong with dresses, ve~?" Italy bounced up and down on the bed, even under the assault of clothes. "Dresses are nice! Did you know I used to wear dress all the time, Germany~?"

"D-Don't ar-rgue with me! Just change!"

"Okay!" Italy stood up and started taking off his dress, pulling the bottom of the skirt up to his waist.

Germany's eyes exploded like hand grenades. Blushing fiercely, he looked away and rubbed his temple to shield his view. "N-Not in h-here! Go to your own tent!"

"Huh? Why?" Italy scratched his head. "Is that a German culture thing? But I've changed with you around hundreds of times before, ve~?"

Germany wanted to cry out, it's the verflucht dress. But it was much easier for him to cry out instead, "Fine, change in here!" and promptly storm out of his own tent, so that's what he did.

Damn it, Italy!

Taking a change of clothes for himself, Germany found two Allies outside, who were also still in their pajamas. France was trying to comfort England, who was suffering from a fierce hangover. "England, please behave yourself. You are acting like a child."

"Blimey, someone needs to turn off the sun!" England tried to bury his head in some sand by the shore.

In this situation, the word 'blimey' happened to be a very appropriate word to use. After all, it was a corruption of the phrase, 'God blind me.'

France noticed that his former enemy had appeared. "Oh, Germany!" France smiled deviously, and England looked up from his sand helmet. "I hope the morning found you well?"

"Bastard!" Germany saw the telltale glint in France's sea-blue eyes. "You were the one behind this!"

France smirked slyly. "Behind what?"

Germany grunted in disgust. Whenever France said something with even the most minimally suggestive vocabulary, it made Germany want to gag.

Gag France, that is!

"Are you referring to cute little Italy? I think that I did a wonderful job." France was a little scared of the German rage, but mostly he was proud of his accomplishment. All he had to do was look at Germany's florid face, tense movements, and conflicted gaze to know that the dress had the desired effect. "No need to thank me."

"Why the hell would I thank you!" Germany approached menacingly.

France stifled his fearful trembling by remarking spitefully, "I-If you hadn't enjoyed my gift, then you wouldn't be so angry with me, non?"

Germany stopped, but his look only turned more ominous.

England laughed at them. "You're going to get your arse kicked by Germany again, France!"

"No, I won't attack." Germany growled. "… But I won't take this without fighting back, either!" In a tizzy, he left the former Allied powers to go change in Italy's tent.

England mumbled sarcastically, "Good work, France, you've set off World War Three!" Not seeming worried at all, England escaped from the bright sun into Japan's tent.

France stood alone and sighed. His arrangement had ultimately failed to raise the German's spirits. Ultimately, there was still the matter of Germany's 'stomach pain' to deal with, so another plan had to be made.

Still, it had not been a useless endeavor.

Thanks to France, anti-nationalism was now probably the last thing on Germany's mind.

* * *

By the time America exited his tent fully dressed, the other three countries were already waiting for him by the extinguished fireplace, ready to go. America's thoughts were focused on what part of the war they would reenact next. "Awesome, everyone's up. Who's ready for some declarations of war?"

Everyone else was more concerned about breakfast. No one was hungry yet, but it was still a pressing concern. "What will we do about our meals, aru?" China put his hands on his hips. "Will we come back to the camp for breakfast?"

"Why not bring food with us?" Russia picked out some wheat bread to use from the food scattered around the camp. "We eat during reenactment, da." He packed the bread, plus some butter and cheese, in a bag.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Just get some good food, okay!" With a wave of the hand, America delegated all food responsibility to Russia.

Russia smiled. In his rummaging he noticed the pack of matches that China had used the night before. "America, where is the kielbasa?"

"Ha, what's that? I've never of anything called 'kill-boss-uh!' It sounds totally Russian and stupid!"

Japan stepped in to help. "I think you call it 'Polish sausage,' America-kun."

"Oh." America was disappointed. He walked over to the makeshift refrigerator—it was a ditch a few feet deep that was kept cool by an air conditioner—and pulled out some sausage. "Right here. Let's go now!" He tossed the meat to Russia and rallied the other nations to walk with him, whistling his national anthem.

The ten-minute walk to the center of the island was marked only by useless American banter, Chinese curses, Russian proverbs, and quiet Japanese advice. In the same clearing they had used before, they found England and France, standing apart from Germany and Italy. To the laughter of America, Italy was wearing one of Germany's uniforms.

"All right, so you guys made the Munich Pact!" America shouted happily, as if it was an accomplishment on his part.

"Yes, one year late!" England retorted. "What do you want us to do now, America? Or do you even know what happened after the invasion of Poland?"

"Of course I do! Allies, on this side! Axis, over there!" America stayed at the west side of the clearing with Russia and China. England and France came over. "Wow, England, you look terrible!"

"Stop shouting!" England covered his ears. "I may have had one drink too many, but that gives you no right to torture me this way!"

Meanwhile, Japan returned to Germany and Italy. "Hello again, Germany-kun, Italy-kun. How was your sleep?"

Italy beamed. "It was great, thanks, Japan~!"

Germany fidgeted and shifted his balance between his feet. "… Ja…" He did not want to divulge information to Japan, but he didn't want to offend Italy, either. Germany understood that Italy had only been a pawn in France's strange scheme, but that didn't help things very much, anyway.

"I see…" Japan was not an expert at social interactions himself, but he was good at sensing the atmosphere, and he discerned that something was amiss. What had happened last night, or this morning, in the Axis camp?

Italy nodded ecstatically. "Ve~! Germany was sick last night, so France had me-"

Germany cut him off quickly. "Never mind that! I am well now. It is time to continue the reenactment."

"Oh, it worked? You feel better now? Tell me, Germany~!" Italy prodded with excitement.

Germany reddened. He wanted to say as little as possible about the matter, so he shyly muttered, "Ja. Be quiet."

It wasn't entirely a lie. Germany wouldn't admit it but he had secretly enjoyed seeing Italy in a dress, and just that one thought alone made him want to face-palm. And Germany didn't even notice that he was effectively distracted from the painful memories of the war.

"Yay!" Italy embraced Germany. "All better now!"

"Um, b-but…" Germany did not want to encourage Italy's behavior. He looked away carelessly, failed to reciprocate the hug, and rejoined, "D-Don't do it again."

Italy pulled back so that he could show his friend his smiling face. "But it worked, ve! Every time you get sick, I should wear a-!"

Germany almost choked and shook his head fiercely. "N-N-Nein! A-Absolutely not!"

"But you said that you liked it!"

Germany shut his eyes in frustration. "I said, be quiet!" He elbowed Italy somewhat gently in the stomach.

"Oof!" Italy recoiled for a second, but immediately came back up. "Wah, Japan~! Germany is back to normal, which means he's mad at me! I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry!"

Japan said nothing, for which Germany was more than grateful.

"Hey, you guys!" America called. "Axis people, listen up!"

"Huh? Okay~!" Italy waved, forgetting all about the dress. Japan nodded, and Germany stared attentively, hoping that some action would do well to clear his mind.

"Shut up, get down, and get ready for war!" America commanded them with excitement as he ducked to the ground in a halfhearted attempted to make himself invisible on their side of battle field. Most of his partners followed his example.

The Axis also buried themselves in the dirt. Italy snuggled up next to Germany, believing that doing so would help Germany ward off any more sicknesses. With his other arm, Italy also pulled Japan closer, surrounding the Italian with a duo of uncomfortable countries.

America laughed at their behavior. "Gee, you guys sure are weird! Anyway, we're now in the Phony War which, I'm pretty sure, lasted for seven months after the invasion of Poland. England, France, go to the center and draw a line between the Awesomes and the Axis!"

Not understanding America's plan yet, the two European Allies reluctantly obeyed and drew a line running north and south.

America yelled out when England stood on the wrong side. "Hey, stand on our side, Brit!"

"Oh, I get it." France flicked back his hair. "This is the Maginot Line between me and the Axis?"

"Well, blast all!" England slowly came back over the line. "This is the part of the war that America actually knows, and it's the stupidest part of all."

"Great!" America took that remark as a compliment. "Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy, stand on the other side of the line!"

Neither Germany nor Italy were fond of those names. They came over to the Maginot Line, anyway, but Germany barked at America. "Don't call us that!"

"Hey, don't look at me! I'm neutral, remember? Neutrality Act of 1939!" America sat upright for a moment. "All right, start the Phony War!"

The four belligerents looked at each other. England declared for all of them, "It's called the Twilight War for a reason, America. All we did was sit on the border and look at each other. We fought a little, but hardly enough to be called a war. Do I have to throw pamphlets at Germany, again?"

"Actually, love, it's called the drôle de guerre, the silly war." France corrected him.

"No." Germany crossed his arms. "It's called der Sitzkrieg, the sitting war."

"So? Whatever it's called, you still have to start it!" America groaned, making funny hand gestures that only China and Russia saw. "Start the war, do something!"

The responsibility fell on the Allies' shoulders to declare war. England, still upset over his headache, began the declaration. "So, Germany invaded Poland, and broke the Munich Pact. That means we have to go to war. And I know we waited two days after the invasion before declaring war on you; don't bother pointing that out!"

"Yes, we have to declare war on you, Germany." France eyed the Axis carefully.

Germany sighed out of exasperation. "Fine."

"What about me, ve~?" Italy swooped his arms around.

"No, Italy, we don't declare war on you until the end of the Twilight War." England rubbed his head. "What now, America?"

"What now? What now?" America repeated skeptically. "Now, you reenact the Phony War, duh!"

The four combatants stood there, glancing at each other again. This period of time in history was famous only for the fact that nothing happened, and America wanted them to act it out?

England sat down. "Well, we might as well do something."

"We should play a game of Belote. Does anyone have a deck of cards?" France crossed his legs so that his rear wouldn't touch the ground. It felt strange, being divided from the Axis powers this way by an invisible barrier. "Hmm. Suddenly, the Maginot line does not seem so strong…"

Germany planted himself on the ground, pulling Italy down with him. "The Maginot line was never strong! The Siegfried Line was."

Italy bounced excitedly, along with his hair. "Oh, what was that, Germany~?"

"You should know! It was the German defensive line opposite the French Maginot line." Germany resisted shouting, Damn it, pull that distracting strand of hair down, Italy!

There was a pause, and none of the actors were comfortable with the silence. It was slightly more irritating than their conversations.

"This bores me." Russia said loudly to America. "When are they finished, comrade?"

"Shh! This is hilarious." America giggled, scooting a few inches further up to get a better view.

China, like Russia, was also uninterested, and decided to get some extra sleep.

Russia surreptitiously crept towards China.

Japan sat at attention for a little while, but eventually started playing with the fallen leaves around him, using them to practice architecture.

"Eh, let us play a game. I cannot stand to be idle." France clapped his hands together. "Are you all familiar with the game of Red Hands? You play it by trying to slap the other's hands fast enough-"

"That sounds awful." England cut in. "How about a few games of Mercy?"

France boycotted England's choice with a groan, but Italy liked the sound of the game. "Mercy? Ve~?"

England was happy to have a supporter. "Yes, Italy. The goal of the game is to bend the other's hands, straining the ligaments and tendons in the wrist until the player can no longer stand the pain-"

Italy cried out and hid behind Germany. "Eek! Don't hurt me! I'm just a weak Italian!"

Germany stiffly suggested, "Do you all know Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

"Rochambeau? No, thank you." France dismissed the idea as distasteful. "What about a clapping game?"

"Absolutely not! That's for girls." England snorted. "We could try noughts and crosses."

"I know! I know!" Italy came back from behind Germany and waved his hands around. "Let's play Chopsticks, like Japan! Or what about Janken?"

"Janken is another name for Rock, Paper, Scissors, Italy." England stretched back a little.

"Oh. Okay~! Let's play Micatio! Romano likes that game!" Italy beamed for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, let's play Morra. It's like Micatio, but easier!"

France's tone suggested that he already disapproved of the game. "What is Morra?"

"…I will explain. Two of us would be 'odds,' and two of us would be 'evens.'" Germany gave the rules seriously, as if they constituted a battle strategy. "We all hide one hand, and then throw it forward, holding out one or two fingers. If the sum of all the fingers is odd, then the odd players win. If the sum of all the fingers is even, then-"

"That sounds kind of complicated." England turned back to look at America. "Can we stop now?"

"But you haven't done anything, yet!" Far away from the front lines, America was eating a cheeseburger. "You can stop after you do something entertaining!"

"Ugh, you barmy little…! Fine. We'll do one quick game of Morra, and that's it!" England faced his opponents. "France and I will be odds, and you two are evens. Is that acceptable?"

"Ve~!" Italy nodded, full of enthusiasm.

Germany, however, was bored and rigid. "Hm."

The four nations hid their left hands behind their backs. Italy said, "Uno, due, tre, spara!"

At the same time, England threw out a hand with two fingers, France threw out one finger, Germany threw out one finger, and Italy threw out two fingers.

"Sì, sei dita! We win, ve~!"

"Wonderful, well done." England's sarcastic congratulations were taken seriously by Italy. "We're finished now, America!"

"What, already?" America sucked loudly on the remains of a soda. "Na, I'm having too much fun making you guys look like idiots. One more game, and that's all, I promise!"

England was doubtful, but Italy boasted, "Bene~! We won, so we get to pick the next game!"

"That is hardly fair." France protested. "You picked the first game. It is the Allies' turn!"

"Agreed." England rubbed one of his ears. "Why don't we play Pictionary?"

"Ha! That's totally my game, by the way!" America's voice was unilaterally ignored by all other nations.

"Without paper?" Italy laid down on his stomach and elbows and kicked his legs around. "Ve~! Okay, we'll use our bodies!"

France enjoyed that thought. "Finally, someone suggests an adequate game!"

England grumbled, "Wouldn't that be the same as Charades, though…?"

Germany muttered, "Ja, fine. Let's get this over with."

"Yay!" Italy prodded Germany with a finger. "Act something, and I will guess what word you are thinking of!"

"N-Nein." Germany was far too prideful to do that. "Why not you?"

"Ve~! Yes, sir!" Italy stood up. "Guess what I am!" He stretched his arms up as far as they would go, holding them parallel above his head. He wiggled them around a little, leaned forward a little, and made ridiculous whooshing sounds. It looked like he was swimming.

But Germany knew what it really was. "Pasta?"

"Sì!" Italy jumped with glee.

"What? That's impossible!" England didn't see how that imagery could possibly represent pasta, and neither did France. "For all we know, Italy could have meant a different word!"

"It does not matter." Germany's stern demeanor did not fail him for an instant. "We are only playing a game for America."

"...Yeah, I see your point." England glanced resentfully at the young nation watching them, while Italy dropped back down.

France, meanwhile, lept up onto his feet. "Eh bien, it is our turn, England. Can you guess what I am?" With a playful smile, he partially bent over, brought two fingers to his lips, and blew a kiss.

England groaned. "An inappropriate Frenchman?"

"Non, mon cher, try again." France made a big show about flipping back his hair and winking his eyes.

"I have no idea."

"You must try and guess, England. This is not hard!"

England shrugged. "I give up. I'm sure it's manky, anyway."

"Oh, really? Here's a hint for you." France bent down further at the hip and slammed his lips into England's.

In an instant, England was paralyzed. Air escaped him, warmth entered him, and his mind went wild, confused by the sudden contact and unexpected taste of sweet champagne. It didn't help that he was still suffering from a hangover. What the hell was France doing to him!

Germany blushed and held a hand over his eyes. Italy didn't seem to notice anything as unusual. Japan made a point of appearing very concentrated on his small castle of leaves.

"Ha ha ha ha!" America almost died of laughter. "You must really suck at this game, England!"

France pulled away, grinning.

England could hardly speak. "S-S-Scrote! Bl-loody, m-miserable-!"

"Time's up!" Clueless Italy announced. "England couldn't get it! We win again, ve~!"

"J-Ja…" Germany answered quietly.

"The word was 'love,' England. What a pity." France shook his head in mock disappointment. "And I thought I did a magnificent job illustrating it, too."

"W-W-Wanker!" England screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Wha-What?" China was roused from sleep by England's scream. "What happened, aru?"

But when China opened his eyes, he saw that Russia was looming over him. "Nothing, comrade. Go back to sleep, da?"

"M-Máo zi?" China shuddered with fear and crawled away from Russia. He quickly jumped away and hid on the other side of America. "G-G-Gāi s-sǐ…"

Russia's childish expression and aura of darkness were overpowering. But America was laughing so hard, his tears were of delight and not of fear. "Ha ha! Dude, you guys got owned twice by the Axis and the fighting hasn't even started yet! No wonder you two couldn't win the war without me!"

England glared madly at France, but the French never did find the English to be very intimidating, anyway. "Mon cher, America, I believe the deal was that we could move on after this game? Isn't that right, England?"

"S-Shut up! P-Plonk-ker fr-rog…"

"Yeah, this is getting boring, anyway." America's hushed laughter contradicted what he said. "Uh, what comes after the Phony War, or whatever it's called?"

England, having regained minimal composure, punched France in the face. The blow was rather pathetic and France answered it with a laugh, embarrassing England even further.

Germany hoped that a conversation would draw attention away from the two immature Allies. "Af-After der Sitzkrieg, I successfully invaded Denmark and Norway."

Italy added merrily, "And Belgium and Luxembourg!"

France concluded spectacularly, "And Holland and me! Alas, I am always the victim."

England pouted, and twitched with rage. But he was too confused and out of balance to do much more fidget about and sit.

"Ha, you were captured that soon!" America laughed uproariously. "You suck, France! You didn't even do any fighting? Ha ha! Wow, my partners are terrible."

Germany frowned. "That's not true. France tried to invade me, as soon as I invaded Poland. Remember the Saar Offensive?"

France tilted his head and looked to the sky, daydreaming. "Ah, oui. My only offensive move in all of World War Two, and I couldn't even divert a single German soldier from Poland. I captured eight kilometers of nothing and retreated." France bowed his head and sulked dramatically. "Oh, to think of the times when I used to be strong!"

England should have stopped talking, but he did not bite back a sardonic comment. "W-When were you ever strong, you weak arsehole…?"

China brooded. "I see it wasn't just me to be captured early in the war, aru…" As soon as Russia put a heavy, comforting hand on China's shoulder, though, China immediately perked up and scooted away, disturbed by Russia's unexpectedly close proximity. "Please, leave me alone."

Russia kept his childish smile. "America, why do we ignore my attacks on Finland and Sweden?"

"I believe England-kun had a new boss at this point, also. Should we reenact that?" Japan put in, but no one heard him from across the field.

"Hey, everyone stop getting off track! This is the end of the Phony War, so we will reenact France's epic fail!"America inhaled deeply and shouted louder than necessary. "Battle of France, 1940!"

"Shut up, aru!" China complained, but he stayed very close by America.

Remaining in the clearing, France, England, Germany, and Italy exchanged nervous glances as they stood up. England muttered, "A-America, we n-need weapons, idiot."

"Oh, need to buy more stuff from Mr. Neutral?" Always prepared in matters of artillery, America opened his bomber jacket and pulled out four guns. He tossed them to everyone on the field, who picked them up. "You'll have to pay me back at the end of the war, you know!"

Japan chanced raising his voice. "You said guns were not allowed here, America-kun…?"

"Normal guns aren't allowed here. So we get to use paintball guns! Seriously, Battle of France, everyone else be quiet!" America stamped two hands down on China and Russia to keep them down, eliciting agitated annoyance from China and portentous darkness from Russia.

The actors were slow to begin their performance. But they didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Germany halfheartedly pointed his gun at France and stepped over the Maginot line. These actions reminded him far too vividly of the war, and he could feel his negative sentiments creeping back. "Pardon me, France, but I am capturing you."

Italy waited a second before crossing the Maginot line as well, swinging his gun at his side and smiling obliviously. "Hello, di nuovo~!"

Even though France was also armed with a gun, he raised his hands in the air and did not put up a struggle. "I don't suppose you'll be helping me this time, either, England?"

England almost burst like a balloon, filled to the brim as he was with frustration. "H-Hell, no! I mean, I, I can't change historical accuracy. I have to escape from Dunkirk with some of your troops." England even chuckled, despite his embarrassment, confusion, and hangover. "Operation Dynamo and all that…" He laboriously walked away, back to the squatting Allies. "I, uh, declare war on Italy, by the way."

France smirked. He was left alone to the advancing Axis powers again. "I surrender."

Italy cheered. "Big brother France is with us again! Yay~!"

"Yes." Germany lowered his gun. "Lower your hands already, France."

France complied. "You sound so serious, Germany! Relax; it is a game, non?"

Germany gripped his gun tightly. "Ja…"

"Although, I'm sure I gave you plenty reason to relax this morning-"

Germany shuddered. "D-Don't think I have forgotten about the trick that you played on Italy!" He barked. "I am watching you, France!"

France chuckled and went to the Axis side of the field, bringing his paintball gun with him. He got down on the ground, by Japan. "Alo, Japan. Now you can enjoy the pleasure of my company."

Japan answered with his typical calm facade. "H-Hai." These two countries typically got along well, though for some reason France was always the one to initiate cultural exchanges between them. But after seeing how France had played Germany and England, Japan was reluctant to socialize with France. "Sorry for the capture, France-kun."

"Oh, it's not a problem. This just gives me a better vantage point for my plans."

"H-H-Hai?"

Germany and Italy were left by themselves on the field, and America did not give any more stage directions. It was increasingly obvious that America had no idea what event followed the invasion of France. "Uh, let me think for a second…"

Russia suggested, "I take Moldova now, da?"

"Huh? Moldova? Who's that?" America propped himself on his elbow to look at Russia. "And I thought you commies took the Baltic people?"

"You mean Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia?" Russia smiled. "I take them, too."

Italy danced on his toes. "Ve~! I invade Egypt and British Somaliland in Africa!"

Germany rubbed his neck. "Are we completely ignoring the war in the Atlantic, and in the British channel?"

"Everyone, shut up! Man, all you guys ever do is complain!" America complained. "Just listen to what I say! Since France is captured now, Great Britain and Germany can fight or whatever it is that they do."

England groaned. "I would, I would need my siblings for that, barmy yank!"

"All right, whatever, just England and Germany fight, then! Italy, get off the stage!"

Italy merrily skipped away, leaving his gun on the field. England groggily pulled himself back to the field.

Germany balanced his own gun on his shoulder. He really did not want to do this, but this was sacrifice he would make for the rest of them. "Are you ready to fight, England?"

The aggravation of England's discomfiture and hangover only increased when he saw France laughing on the other side of the field. "I, I'll fight! Shut the hell up, France!" England directed his paintball gun at the Axis power. "I'll show you my fearsome might in the Battle of Britain! I'll survive anything you throw at me, and then America will join and help me after I win, a whole fucking year later!"

Germany was not happy at all about this. The Battle of Britain had been a decisive British victory, and try as he might, Germany could not defeat the Royal Air Force with the power of the Luftwaffe. Germany's failure to crush England had prevented Germany from launching any full invasion of Britain.

That was a good thing, right? Germany's military losses during the war are praised today. But he had tried so hard to win. Should Germany be relieved that he failed?

After the First World War, no one thought highly of Germany. It had been a long, hard war for him, just as it had been for everyone else. He didn't understand why so much responsibility had been thrust upon him alone at the end, and he was convinced that the world hated him.

But everything was different when the Nazis came to power. Suddenly, the Germans were a source of strength and pride once more, and Germany was made hopeful again for the future. It seemed like he was worth something again.

And it was no accident that the pinnacle of the so-called master race of the Nazis, the 'Aryan race,' was a tall Caucasian with blue eyes, blond hair, broad shoulders and of purely Germanic heritage.

Germany's crazy boss had played Germany for a fool by giving him false confidence.

"We will do this as quickly as possible." Germany set his paintball gun in his hands. "…You can fire first."

"N-No!" England made a shaky half-step back. "You fired first then, so you shoot first now. Bloody hell!" He suddenly clutched his forehead. "Damn sake…"

Japan blushed and looked down at his leaf palace. "W-What's w-wrong with my sake?"

Germany felt even worse attacking a sort-of sick nation. "Are you well enough to fight?"

"What makes you say that!" England retorted vehemently. "I'm fine!"

Germany lowered his gun. "It, it seems to me that you are still hung over from your excessive drinking last night-"

England was shocked. "What? How do you know about that? I don't remember talking to you last night! D-Don't make rude assumptions about me!"

Germany contained his anger. "I am not making rude assumptions. You were raging about me in front of my tent-"

"How dare you lie to me! A gentleman would never lose his temper." England cut him off. "Maybe you were the drunk one?"

"But I-" Germany suppressed his retort when he realized something: this would be a great time to vent all of the anger he had stored over the last day. There was a dangerous glint in his eye. "You said that I should fire first?"

England wasn't so sure anymore. "Well, that's what-"

Germany shot his paintball gun at England, nailing the Brit right in the chest.

"Ah!" England fell back, splattered by yellow paint. "Wanker! That hurt!"

Germany defended himself with history. "You asked for it. And I bombed London in August of 1940."

"Bastard!" England shot Germany back with green paint, making the large nation grunt from the impact. "I bombed Berlin the next day!"

Now his suit was ruined! It would take him forever to clean this! And he would probably have to clean England's suit, too! Angry at simply everything, Germany sneered and shouted. "Blitzkrieg!" He unloaded more rounds at England, who ran and jumped around to avoid them.

"Oh-em-gee, look at England!" America fell on his back laughing. "This is so awesome!"

Italy was happy, too. "Yay, Germany~!"

"Bloody- agh!" England was hit by another splatter of paint. "Let me shoot back!"

"Nein! Historical accuracy!" Germany picked up Italy's gun and aimed it at England, too.

England yelped and held his gun pathetically in front of him. "You've gone off your trolley, Germany!"

Filled with a decades-old rage that only partially concerned the ill-treated Ally, Germany fired both guns at England, painting him yellow and purple, knocking him backwards into a tree, and making him cringe and stumble.

France was sincerely grateful that he was already captured. And he was beginning to question whether exasperating these two nations had been a good idea in the first place.

"Okay, that's good! You can stop if you want, ha ha!" America finished laughing. "Woo! I think England has suffered enough. Or, at least, it's time to eat lunch."

"But I was enjoying this, aru." China voiced his and Russia's shared opinion.

England snarled and fell down to the ground. "Useless, miserable Allies…"

Germany breathed deeply. With the anger flushed out of his system, clear thoughts returned. Maybe he should apologize to England? No, of course not, England's behavior last night had warranted a good beating.

Or maybe not? Germany looked at England, crumpled pitifully by the tree, and had second thoughts.

A few months ago, Germany went to Canada's home for a G8 meeting, and visited a local café. Without warning, while Germany was ordering a cup of coffee, a Frenchman sitting at a table ruined an otherwise peaceful day and yelled at him, "Nazi!"

This was not uncommon. Sometimes people at Germany's own house raised their right arms to him and mockingly scorned him with a "Sieg Heil!" or a "Heil, mein Führer!" before giving him a different kind of obscene gesture or splashing hot water in his face.

In Germany's house, and in Austria's as well, using the Nazi salute constitutes a criminal offense punishable by three years in prison. Usage of the salute that is 'ironic and clearly critical,' however, is permitted. After the end of the war, Germany had never seen it used any other way.

Germany held his head in his hand. When did everything go so wrong?

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais, Germany? Why are you dawdling over there? We have lunch to eat!" France called him over. Everyone else was gathered in the center of the clearing, waiting for the Axis power to join them. With gloved hands, Russia still held the bag of food that all eyes were fixated on.

"Come on, Germany! We are all hungry, ve~!" Italy tried to grab the bag but America pushed him back.

Germany looked briefly at Italy. Between the wars, Italy had been there, even though Germany had not wanted him around. Sure, Italy never called Germany the pinnacle of all human creation, but unlike Germany's old boss, Italy never abandoned Germany when things got bad.

Damn it, Italy. How can he be so happy all of the time?

With a horribly deflated ego, Germany dropped his paintball gun. "… Ja." He regrouped with the Axis.

"Yeah, excellent!" America took the bag from Russia. "All right, so I brought food for everyone! Dig in, y'all!" He poured the contents onto the field.

Russia's tainted smile made China flinch.

Everyone reached for food, but America unexpectedly stopped them. He grinned widely and raised a fist triumphantly into the air. "But wait, this is now August of 1940! So the Axis powers have to make their tripartite treaty and become the Axis powers! It is in August, I think." He counted his fingers. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure about that."

And with that declaration, America parceled the food into two piles on separate ends of the clearing. He set the Allies around one pile on the west end and isolated the Axis to the other one on the east end.

France, though, remained an Axis prisoner, so he had to eat with them.

When the two groups were far enough away from each other, and everyone sat down to eat, China was almost clutching America and England in an attempt to stay out of Russia's hands. America continued to poke fun at England, whose lexicon became temporarily specialized to include only British swear words.

China held himself and tried to eat his food in peace, but he couldn't help muttering, more than once, "W-Why is-s he l-looking at m-me like th-that, aru…?"

Back on the Axis side, Japan noticed that none of his friends were making the effort to reenact the tripartite treaty. "Et, eto, America-kun wants us to form the treaty. Should we form the treaty, Germany-kun? Italy-kun?"

"No." Germany answered simply, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Italy nodded and started making sandwiches for the group.

"O-Oh…" Japan was confused. He was still under the impression that the Munich Pact had been truthfully reenacted last night.

France, who seemed rather preoccupied and distracted, inserted himself into the idle conversation. "Do we only have sandwiches to eat? No appetizer, fish course, salad, cheese plate-?"

Germany glowered. "You, you will eat what everyone else eats. You are supposed to be our prisoner."

"Hmph." France smirked. "Really, Germany, you should relax more-!"

"No, you should work more!" Germany clenched his hands into balls of anger, at himself and at the events of the day. "... Verdammt, France!" He slammed one fist on to the dirt. "Explain to Italy that he must never again listen to what you say!"

"Oh, are you still upset about this morning?" France said easily. He took out a cigarette from under his capelet and lit it. "And I thought you enjoyed my present? I put so much work into it, too!"

This was all lost on Japan. "Eto...?"

Germany was tormented again by the memory of Italy in a dress. "W-What the hell gave you the impression that I even tolerated it!"

France smoked his cigarette. "Please, all one had to do was look at the lovely expression on your- urk!" France was assaulted by Germany. "Brute!"

"How dare you manipulate Italy for your own sick games?" An emotionally conflicted Germany throttled France, grabbing his throat and shaking him around.

"Ve~?" Italy tilted his head.

"Get off of me!" France flailed and tried to escape but Germany had made escape impossible by sitting on his chest and keeping him pinned to the ground. Through all of the trouble, France managed to hold on to his cigarette.

Germany grimaced, his wits inundated with shame and rage. "No! I will release you as soon as you tell Italy that you manipulated him!"

On the other side of the field, the other four Allies noticed the heavily one-sided skirmish. America, China, and Russia found it amusing, but paint-battered England, barely enduring his headache and humiliation, was particularly peeved.

He shouted at them. "H-Hey, no fags on the island!"

Germany froze.

France grinned. "Why are you sitting on me, again, Germany?"

In the United Kingdom, and nowhere else, a 'fag' is a cigarette.

"Das reicht! That's enough! Ihr seid alle Arschlöcher!" Germany finally snapped. He got off of France, only to screech at him. "France! You are now an Axis power!"

Delighted, Italy shook Japan's shoulder. "Ve~!"

America almost spit all of his food over England. "What? That can't be right!"

France, however, was relieved. Germany sounded angry, but was this the only way that Germany could vent it? France replied calmly, "Oh, is that all-"

"Now you train as we do!" Germany cried out. "Get down on your paws and give me thirty push-ups, jetzt!"

Italy meeped. Japan gently and quickly removed Italy's hand from his shoulder.

"Qu'avez-vous dit!" France panicked and shook his head desperately. "No, I cannot be made to do that! I am on vacation!"

"Halt den Mund!" Germany grabbed France, flipped him over, and thrust him back to the ground. "Do it! Like this!" Germany got down on the ground himself, pumped out ten push-ups within seconds, and got back up. "Es ist einfach! It is easy!"

"S-Sûrement p-pas! Surely n-not, no w-way will I-"

"You are too weak, France! How else could I have taken your land so easily!" Germany bent down and glared right in France's eye, grabbing the cigarette out of France's fingers and crushing it with his boot. "Do it!"

France trembled and obeyed the German's commands. He began executing feeble push-ups.

"Eep!" Italy was so scared that he also began doing push-ups.

Never one to be ineffectual, Japan followed the rest of his team and got down on his hands, too.

America took a giant bite out of his kielbasa sandwich. "Ha ha, that's what you get for losing, France! Wow, the Axis are really good at this, aren't they?"

"Look at Japan and Italy go! And I thought Italy was weak?" China remarked. "He's a machine compared to France."

Russia stared blankly at them. "Germany is good drill sergeant, da?"

England tried to laugh scornfully at France but it sounded awkward. "Ha, ha! Take that, frog!"

France was furious. Germany was making him work! And it was not the fun kind of work! "I will have my revenge, Germany-!"

"You had your revenge this morning!" Germany pointed his paintball gun at France. "Shut up and push, like them!" He nodded towards his fellow Axis powers.

Japan took a second to breathe and say, "At least all of that training was good for something."

Italy was slowing down already. "I feel like throwing up, ve..."

* * *

Warning: it only gets gayer* from here.

*gay– adj : having or showing a merry, lively mood.

See you later!


	4. Neither Operation Was A Surprise

Hello. I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays, I know I enjoyed mine and did absolutely nothing useful.

After I wrote this passage I noticed that I'm usually so busy giving dialogue that I tend to not describe things very well. If anything is wrong or if my story sucks, please let me know! I won't improve without any criticism.

You may not have noticed, but none of this story is planned out. I'm making everything up as I go. If you want to make some kind of request or have me add something to the story, it would be very easy for me to do that.

Or not, I'm good either way. Enjoy the story or else!

* * *

When the rudimentary lunch was completed, and in record time, too, thanks to Germany's harsh commands to France and indirect commands to Italy, America was quick to declare, loud enough so that the Axis could hear, "All right! Who here knows what comes after the Battle of Britain?"

"Everyone except you knows, aru." China crossed his arms. "Besides, the war did not happen overnight! You make it seem like it lasted five minutes, aru!"

"Then I'll go to Texas and change it in the history books later!" America packed up the remains of the Allies' lunch. "Yo, Axis! Pack up your guys' food! I don't want birds or something coming here and pooping on us!"

France waved his hand dismissively. "That is ridiculous-"

"You heard him, France!" Germany ordered heatedly. "Clean this mess up well, and I won't make you run around the island three times!" Even though Japan was already cleaning and picking everything up, Germany stopped him so that France would have more work to do.

"Oh, this is so unfair!" France, already exhausted from the forced labor the tenacious German soldier had been giving him, did the work but protested anyway. "Besides, bird droppings are good luck!" He threw everything into one of the bags that originally held the kielbasa.

"Ha, you're just making stuff up." America took the scraps away from France. "Bird crap isn't lucky!"

"Niet, it is lucky, comrade." Russia came over, along with England and China, who both lagged behind. "It is very lucky if it hits you in your hair."

"Sì! Bird poop is lucky!" Italy shot up onto his feet. "I was once pooped on outside the Sistene Chapel, ve~!"

"By a bird, you mean?" England remarked snidely.

"What is wrong, England?" France mocked him with some playful gestures. "You sound so, as you say, stroppy."

But England kept his cool this time. "You know what you did, France! I say, you deserve to be pushed around by Germany. You are absolutely intolerable!"

France hung his shoulders. "Ah, mon cher, no one deserves this kind of treatment."

America jumped into the middle of the group. "Everyone, pay attention to me! Now that we're all together again, someone needs to tell me what comes next!" America pushed China in particular. "Come on, Asians know everything. Tell me what happened after the Battle of Britain!"

China only frowned in response, but Italy replied gleefully, "I invaded Greece, yay! Do I go invade Greece again?"

"And perhaps win, this time?" Germany grunted harshly, but Italy missed the insult. "Hungary, Romania, and Slovakia joined the Axis at this time, with Croatia and Iraq soon after."

"And I invaded Italy's colonies around this time." England felt the pangs of his hangover return and he grimaced. "Ugh, damn…"

Japan advised him, "England-kun, you should really drink some water."

"What?" England immediately straightened his frown and pretended to not be in offensive pain. "Why?"

"When you have a headache after you drink too much alcohol, it means that your brain is dehydrated-"

"W-What are you talking about? I didn't drink anything. I'm fine." England's unsympathetic tone discouraged Japan from saying anything else.

"Ugh, everything you guys say is so boring!" America groaned. "Did anything cool happen after England got owned by the Germans?"

"Hey!" England jolted in frenzy. "I won that battle! You don't know anything, yank!"

"Well, are we moving past 1940?" France stroked his chin, and hoisted the trash bag over his shoulder. "In 1941, Germany attacked North Africa with the Afrika Corps."

"Just keep moving, France." Germany rolled his eyes. "I also invaded Yugoslavia and Greece to back up a certain failing Italian army."

"And I signed another non-aggression pact with Russia-kun." Japan recommended. "Although, it did not do much…"

"That's all so lame!" America shook his head disapprovingly. "What else?"

"How can you call historical events lame?" England sneered. "I suppose I attacked Iraq later, and I invaded the French colonies. Is that important enough for you?"

Italy waved his white flag around. "I surrendered in Africa, ve~!"

Germany narrowed his eyes. "Ja. Well done, Italy. And, I invaded Russian land after that."

"Oh! Wait! Everyone else, shut up! That one sounds interesting!" America thrust his hands out. "Yeah, we're doing that! We're going to reenact the Battle of Russia!"

England scoffed, "No one calls it that, America. The Battle of Russia is the name of one of your propaganda movies. The rest of us call it Operation Barbarossa."

"What the hell kind of name is that? Russians have the gayest names!"

"My names are happy? How nice." Russian smiled, and took one of the paintball guns lying around. "But Barbarossa is not Russian."

Italy threw an arm around Germany. "Sì~! It is German!"

"D-Do not do that." Germany removed the arm. "Unternehmen Barbarossa is named for an old leader of mine."

America whistled rudely. "You guys talk too much! That's why you Europeans never get anything done!" He shoved England to the side. "You guys, get back over there to the side and hide in the dirt! You too, China! Ha, did you do anything in this war? You're useless! And Russia-"

"Sǐ pì yǎn!" China shouted. "I was constantly at war! You just don't seem to care about it, aru!" China grabbed one of the guns.

"Yeah, you keep thinking that." America dismissed China, completely forgetting about him.

"I stand here, da?" Russia went back to the Allies' side of the clearing but remained in the open, his gun hanging idle in one hand.

"And we will be watching." France took Italy and Japan back with him, and left the trash bag next to a tree. "This will be fun. Don't you agree, fellow Axis powers?"

Japan, who grabbed another paintball gun to bring back with them, nodded sheepishly.

Italy, however, bobbed ecstatically. "Ve~!"

Germany unenthusiastically armed himself with the remaining paintball gun, which Italy had left earlier at their side of the clearing.

Most of the countries were now squatting and waiting for the involuntary battle to commence. The distance between Russia and Germany was only fifty feet or so, but it still felt like an insuperable expanse of dirt.

Germany did not really know why he had attacked the Soviet Union back then. From a militaristic perspective, it was a complete mistake. If anything was to be learned from World War One, Russia should not be underestimated, but that was exactly what Germany's leaders had done. They had expected that the Russians would crumble beneath the technological and philosophical might of the Germans.

Plus, Germany was interested in Russia's oil for use in the war against the Western nations. It seemed like everything in the world had to be harvested and used in the war.

But ultimately, there was the politics involved. Communists had been the rivals to the Nazis during the Nazi takeover, and Germany's crazy boss would not be satisfied until the Russians were destroyed or at work for the Germans. The treaty they had formed in 1939 was never meant to last.

Germany swore under his breath. He wanted so much to blame everything on his leaders. Yes, it was all the fault of his leaders, the Nazi party. But they were Germans, too. And what ever happened to Germany's better leaders, or to Japan's better leaders, or to Italy's better leaders?

The President of Germany, who shared power with Germany's insane boss, died in 1934. The King of Italy and the Emperor of Japan were figureheads, subject to the whims of nothing short of military dictators.

Whatever way he thought about it, Germany always decided in the end that the guilt did not lie solely in his leaders.

"You invade Soviet Russia now, da?" Darkness emanated from Russia's simple smile.

"I-I would rather not." Germany presented himself well, with raised chin and chest, but his faltering voice contradicted him. Why did all of these reenactments have to include Germany? He was certainly not involved in every major event surrounding the war, was he?

Or was it because his failures were more entertaining than everyone else's?

"As you said before, we both knew this was coming." Russia held his gun with both hands, his deceptive grin growing wider.

To Russians, the German invasion of the Soviet Union is a source of pride, as is the knowledge that the Russians sacrificed so much so that the Allies could win the war. After all, the American and British late invasion of Germany was nothing compared to the great contribution of Russia! The Western countries had only attacked at the end and took advantage of the Soviet Union's hard endurance.

It had been the largest military operation in human history, in both manpower and casualties.

The Allied victory belonged to Russia!

But the Axis defeat belonged to Germany. The conditions that each side endured in the invasion were atrocious for both Ally and Axis, but that didn't change the fact that Germany had invaded, and Germany had lost.

Did those two mistakes balance each other out?

"…I, I only do this so that we can get off of this island." Germany spoke in a hushed voice. "Do not take it personally, please."

Russia opened a large, magically-full bottle of vodka. "No hard feelings, comrade."

"Gut…" Germany did his best to ignore his thoughts and approached slowly. "Do you want to surrender or-?"

"Niet! Soviet Union would rather die than surrender to the Fascist invaders." Russia dropped his paintball gun whipped out the box of matches he had taken from the Allied camp earlier, and lit a match. The dancing flame was reflected in his dark eyes. "Krov' za krov'! Smert' za smert'!"

Germany stopped. "W-Was?"

"Death to the Fascist invaders, da?" Russia poured out the remaining contents of the bottle of vodka in a wide circle around him. The Allies could smell the singular odor of diluted jellied gasoline.

England whispered, "Is he…?"

"Russia, no!" China cried out.

Quickly realizing the situation, Germany threw away his paintball gun, jumped into action, and rushed to save Russia, but he was too far away. "Stop!"

"Kol kol kol kol…" Russia dropped the match, and the earth went up in flames in a great fireball, followed by a raging fire. Smoke quickly grew from the fire and Russia was lost in the hot, dense air.

"S-Shén j-jīng bìng, aru!" China shouted furiously and jumped to the field, leaving his gun behind.

"Fuck yeah!" America cheered. "Go commies! Scorched earth policy for the win!"

"America only knows the stupidest things…" England groaned out of irritation. Russia was reenacting his battle so much better than England had reenacted the Blitz! "Bloody braggart Russia, go ahead and burn…"

Of the watching Axis powers, Japan was the one to throw his gun to the ground and thrust himself forward to help, while Italy and France were paralyzed with fear and panic, respectively.

With Japan hastening behind him, Germany shielded his face and entered the fire to evacuate the nation inside. Germany's suit was still covered in paint front the Blitz before, so he ignored the thought that it would make him more flammable and reminded himself that this was, after all, his fault.

Even though Germany and Russia had a troubled history, their modern relations have improved somewhat. Germany has come to depend on energy from Russia, while Russia has come to depend on heavy German investment to develop energy infrastructure, as part of a strategic partnership.

But Germany was not thinking about that right now.

He boldly jumped over the lit circle of vodka to find that China had beaten him there.

Russia, eyes closed, seemed to be sleeping on China's back, but China could hardly support the weight of the large country. "I cannot hold all of him! Grab his feet, aru!"

Germany complied and held the lower half of Russia in the air while China supported the upper half. Keeping him away from the fire, they carried him out of the ring of flames. The Allies' side of the field had too much smoke now, so they carried him to the Axis side and set him down.

Japan ripped off the part of Russia's overcoat that was on fire, and he stamped out the small traces of fire in Russia's hair.

"Saved~!" Italy hopped gleefully, waving a white flag around. France was still rendered motionless by panic.

"Nein, he's unconscious!" Germany took off his own jacket, expecting it to be on fire, which it was. He threw it to the ground and beat it out with his boots.

"H-He, he will b-be fine, n-non?" France came closer now, but only to shudder and stare.

China bent down and checked. "He's breathing, but not very much, aru…"

Thanks to the fire, England and America were forced to relocate backwards. They did not care initially, but as the flames and the smoke continued to grow, England decided that he needed to worry about it after all. "America, we need to put the fire out."

"Why?" America laughed. "We're having so much fun!"

"Wanker!" England slapped America in the back of his head, which didn't have much of an effect. "Besides, if the island goes up in smoke, then we can't reenact any more of your battles." He coughed on the smoke. "Bugger…"

"Oh, yeah, you're right." As if they had all the time in the world, America calmly mulled it over, which made England almost pull his hair out. "Well, I guess we have fire extinguishers back at the camps."

"Bloody hell!" England pulled his Ally up. "Come on, we have to go get them!"

"We must, also." Japan turned to his fellow Axis. "Can someone please come with me back to our camp?"

China offered, "Abso-"

"France!" Germany ordered. "Go with Japan!"

France sulked, but he still ran with Japan to retrieve the fire extinguisher.

"Bye!" Italy waved, not understanding why they were leaving but sending them his regards nonetheless. "Germany, something is burning! And it was not me this time! Can we eat pasta~?"

"Not now." Wary of the suffocating fire, Germany grabbed Russia's feet again. "We need to move him further away from the smoke."

China propped Russia's arms around his neck for better support, but that did not alleviate China's uncomfortable feelings about having the dreaded stalker nation this close. "S-Stupid Russia…"

While Germany and China marched Russia away, Italy skipped beside them, particularly beside Germany. "I don't remember this happening during the war~! Do you, Germany? Do you? Do you? Do you? All I remember is the shortage of pasta! I almost starved, ve~!"

Germany muttered, "You should have made a victory garden and grown food, like the rest of us."

"You can't grow pasta in a garden! Silly Germany~!" Italy pat his friend on the shoulder.

It made Germany flinch, but he did not want to drop Russia, so he just said, "Stop that. And the victory garden is for vegetables, not pasta."

"But vegetables go with pasta!"

"There will be no pasta today, Italy!"

Italy lowered his head. "Pizza~?"

"No pizza."

China tilted his head and looked back at them curiously, and wondered if all Western nations suffered from a common but undiagnosed nervous system disorder.

China considered mental illness a social stigma, and liked to refer to it as a nervous system disorder.

Russia's eyes popped open. "Hello."

Germany was caught off guard and dropped Russia's feet, which landed flat on the ground.

Italy forgot about his insatiable hunger and beamed. "Ve~! Russia is awake!"

"G-Good." China ceased walking and waited for Russia to remove his arms from China's neck.

Russia did no such thing. His happy, light smile confused Germany and delighted Italy, but China could not see it. "Da. I enjoy this war game."

"H-How!" Germany was struck. "You almost killed yourself with a Molotov cocktail!"

"It is not real. Is war game, da?" Russia answered simply.

Unbelievable, Germany thought as he face-palmed.

China was still trapped in Russia's arms. "Please let go of me, aru." China tried to push him away with both hands, but that did nothing.

Russia turned back to China and responded. "You save me from fire, comrade?"

Why was Russia still holding on? China resisted shivering at Russia's prolonged closeness. "What? Of, of, yes, but-"

"How nice." Russia smiled politely.

"W-Why would you do something so foolish? I expect that b-behavior from America, but not from Eastern countries, aru. Uh, please r-release me now."

Russia's eyes shined and he hugged China's neck tighter. "Why did you save Russia?"

"Uh, I, uh… uh, because we are A-Allies." China stuttered. "P-Please let g-go of me. You are making me l-lose my face, aru."

In China, face refers to one's reputation or prestige. To keep face, one must behave in a manner that is socially acceptable, and face is lost by making mistakes in public. Face for the Chinese is a crucial factor of day-to-day life.

Either Russia did not know about this or he pretended to not know about it. "You are losing your face?"

China was relieved; he thought that Russia understood the problem. "Yes, please let me save my face, aru."

Russia moved his hands up from China's neck, and they pinched China's cheeks. "But your face is right here, comrade."

China shivered at the sudden touch of Russian on his skin. "Aru!"

Russia gave a big smile. "Would my face help keep your face here?"

"What are you… a-a-aru …? B-B-Bái mù!" China blushed and struggled fiercely now, desperately pulling at Russia's arms. "Let go of me this instant, aru!"

Russia lowered his arms to wrap them around China's chest and shoulders, preventing China from flailing about. "Become one with Russia, da?"

China screamed. "N-No, aru! A-A-Axis powers, h-help!"

"Aww, carino!" Italy replied, as if China was a baby.

Germany, however, steadied himself, stepped forward, and removed China from Russia's grasp. "Not now, Russia."

"Agreed, comrade. The fire remains to be put out." Russia did not darken at all. "Later, then, da?"

"N-N-No, aru!" China hid behind Germany.

"Da, later." Russia left them to return to the fire, where America had already returned armed with two fire extinguishers. The strong country was boasting that he had beaten England to them. Naturally, the idea had been that England bring one as well, but America was too much of a hero to let England do anything useful.

"T-Thank you, Germany…" China took a shaky breath. "How can I repay you for helping me?"

"Hm?" Germany was not used to hearing that. After all, Italy never said that, and Japan never asked for help. And Prussia would not say that even if Germany had just pushed him out of the way of a speeding truck. "That really is not necessary."

"No, I must repay you." China searched his jacket for something, and pulled out a wooden box. "T-This thing… It's a music box. You can have it, aru."

Italy looked at the box.

Germany did not. "No, I have no need for gifts."

"Please, accept it. Russia gave it to me, but I, aru, I think holding on to it would give him the wrong idea." China shoved the box into Germany's hands.

"J-Ja." Germany glanced down at it. The box looked kind of familiar, but he had never seen it before.

China nodded, and left to help Japan, who had beaten France back to the field.

Italy peered over Germany's shoulder. "…Do, do you like it, ve~?"

"It's fine, I suppose." Not particularly interested in the box, Germany decided to put it away. But his paint-soaked jacket lay ruined near the fire. "Italy, carry this for me."

"Um, don't you want to listen to it?"

"Hm." Germany noticed that there was something unusual and anxious in the Italian's tone. Surprised by Italy's secret penchant for music boxes, Germany opened the box.

A slow, passionate Spanish song played for about a minute, filling the air with sweetness.

"… It's nice." Germany remarked casually. "But that's enough. We should return to the others."

Italy's hopeful spirits dropped faster than his boss's approval rating during World War Two. His newly-timid gaze fell to his feet. "You didn't like it."

"It does not matter. I am sure that China meant well." Germany answered honestly, but now he was confused. Why was Italy so upset? He did not like to see Italy sad. And he had absolutely no idea what to do about it. "What are you doing! Stop sulking like that!"

Italy only sulked more, as if to prove a point.

Germany sighed. "T-The box bores me, ja, but you seem to enjoy it. Here, you can have it." He offered the box to Italy.

Italy refused the gift and continued to sulk.

Germany groaned and rubbed his head. "… What is it, Italy?"

Italy sniffled. "Germany hates me!"

"Schwachsinnige! Again with this?" Germany shook his head. "Italy, I do not hate you. Calm down."

And yet, Italy burst out crying. "Germany hates the present that I spent days making!"

The German stilled. "W-Was?"

"Ve, big brother Spain and I worked so hard on it, too!" Italy ran away crying, rubbing his eyes with his balled-up fists.

What?

Oh, no.

Germany hated himself so much.

* * *

"Alo, news! I have great friends!" France stumbled back into the clearing just as America, Japan, Russia and China finished dousing the fire.

When Japan found his sake supply partially drained in his tent, he had figured out what England had done last night. "Et, eto, did you drink my sake, too, France-kun?"

"Non! I found a grand supply of beer in Germany's tent!" France presented a keg of pale beer almost as big as he was. It was too big for him to carry by hand so he brought it on a red cart. On the bottom of the cart were a few empty mugs.

England finally returned from the Allies' camp, but the sight of the keg made him turn back. "Ugh, please God, no more alcohol…"

"Do not say such blasphemous things, mon cher!" France burped. "Excusez-moi."

America dropped his used fire extinguisher to the ground and abandoned it there. "Hey, why is there beer? You can't have that! This is World War Two!"

England snorted. "Beer existed during the war, America."

"Oh, really? In that case, give me some of that!" America grabbed one of the plastic mugs and poured some beer into it. He downed all of it with one swig.

"Be careful with that, love." France shook his own mug. "Of course, Frenchmen never get drunk, but you should watch how much you drink."

"Yeah, right." England grabbed all of the paintball guns that had been discarded. "You should watch yourself, France."

"That's a terrible thing to say, love!"

"What? That you should watch yourself?"

"Oh. I thought you said something else." France grinned suggestively.

England's eyes opened wider. "You pissed son of a-!"

Italy ran into the clearing, crying like crazy and hugging the first person he encountered, who happened to be France. "Wah! Big brother France! Germany hates me!" He sobbed loudly.

America chuckled at this, so England smacked him on the head. "Quiet!"

China briefly wondered whether this could be his fault or not, but Russia's tall, dark presence distracted him. "Stop coming near me, aru…"

Russia would only smile, so China had to keep moving to a new location.

"What's wrong, Italia?" France smirked. "Tell your big brother all about it."

"Italy!" Germany shouted and hurried to catch up with the small nation, who could reach impressive speeds when retreating. The wooden box was in his right hand, bouncing alongside his hip as he sprinted. "Italy, come back here!"

France laughed. The blond, buff nation looked so flustered, and his face was so red!

"Wah!" Italy left France and moved on to grab and shake Japan. "Japan! Germany hates me!"

Japan endured Italy's throttling with a stoic façade. "Eto, Italy-kun, I do not think-"

"Italy, stop running!" Germany stopped when he got to France and palmed his face again. "This is ridiculous…"

"You seem distressed, Germany." France happily poured a pint of beer for him. "Here, on me!"

Germany removed his palm and glared at the drink. "This is my beer, France."

"Non, you are socialist Germany now! So what's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine." France drank some more of his own mug of beer, while still holding one out for Germany.

"N-Nein. I was not really socialist. It was just in the name…" Germany pushed the mug aside. "…I do not hate you, Italy! Come back here."

Italy still clutched Japan, so Japan decided to walk Italy back to Germany.

This was fine, except that now Germany and Italy were closely surrounded by America, England, France, and Japan. And America was having the time of his life. Even China and Russia came over to see what was going on.

Germany knew what they were all thinking. England had accused Germany of it just last night, although England didn't remember. But Germany and Italy were just friends, and that was all they would ever be. That's just how it is.

Besides, Germany liked Italy too much to let him fall for such a hateful man as Germany.

The fact that Germany was a man just made it even more confusing!

But he could not stand to see Italy cry, and for that Germany gathered up his horribly battered pride, looked away, and said, "Italy, I liked your gift, really."

Italy's sour disposition lifted instantaneously. "Really?" Italy bobbed up and down, with his distracting strand of hair. "Ve~! Say it again!"

Germany let out the breath of air he wasn't aware that he had been holding in. Damn it, why were all of the other nations watching them like this? America even blew up with laughter, but this time China smacked him. "Shut up, aru!"

"Danke…" Germany managed to keep his head held high, but there was nothing he could do about his blush. "Italy, I like the box."

Italy did not notice the stares of the other people. "What do you like best about it?"

Was he serious? This was torture to the German! And America's damn expression wasn't helping at all! Pushing the sudden thoughts of a dusty old tomato ring, the third speed dial on his Handy, and the image of Italy in a dress all under a mental rug, Germany's face finally melted in embarrassment and his chin dipped down. "I… I… I… I like that… it's small, but loud and cheerful… because… it reminds me of you."

And that was it. The other nations would all scorn and mock him for the rest of eternity. Germany involuntarily closed his eyes, not wanting to see their laughing faces, but expecting to hear their derisive ridicule anyway.

Yet that didn't happen. Instead, Italy shouted the loudest "Ve~!" of the day and hugged the stiff German. When Germany finally found the strength to open his eyes, the looks of the other countries surprised him.

They were jealous, and they did a terrible job hiding it.

America still laughed, though, but it was uncomfortable. "Heh, okay… If that hilarious gayness is over, then it's time to reenact the best part of the war!"

With a dreamy look in his eyes, France suggested, "The part when you join, America?"

"You got that right!" America thrust out his thumb. "I'm the hero, and it's time for me to kick Axis ass!"

England found the keg of beer to be substantially more attractive than it had been before. "But what about my war declaration on Finland?"

"Hah, that's a good one England. All right, give me one of those guns!" America snatched a paintball gun from England's arms. "Okay, who do I fight?"

"What!" England shrieked. "You don't know how you got into World War Two? Wanker! I didn't raise you to be this retarded!" England grabbed Germany's rejected mug of beer and stormed away, but not before giving one of the remaining guns to Japan.

Japan quietly accepted it. "Arigato."

America watched Japan, waiting for him to give the gun to another country. "So, Japan? Who do I fight?"

Japan struggled to keep himself stoic. "America-kun… Don't you remember?"

"What are ya talking about?"

"Forgive me, but you do not remember the islands that you took in the Pacific, or the oil embargo you placed on me in August of 1941, America-kun?" Japan held the gun gingerly. "And most of my oil came from your land-"

"Yeah? Get to the point, Japan! Who do I fight?"

Japan stuttered while his fingers played around with his gun. "Eto, eto… I, eto…"

Italy spoke out even though he was still hugging Germany. "Ve~! Are we playing the part where Japan attacks America at Pearl Harbor?"

"Huh?" America blanked.

Japan glanced unpleasantly at his fellow Axis powers.

Germany put a hand on Italy's head and turned the silly nation away from Japan. "I am sorry."

Japan nodded a little, forgiving his friends. How could he be resentful of either the happy pasta lover or of the insanely blushing soldier fallen madly in love?

By the way, whenever the subject came up, Japan agreed with the Allied powers that Germany and Italy were a couple, or that they should be one. To the Allies, this was more of something to ridicule Germany for, but to Japan, it concerned the well-being of his Western friends.

After nearly a century of idleness on the matter, Japan was convinced that Germany would never get anywhere without some help.

America rudely burst out laughing. "No way! I'm fighting you, Japan?"

"H-Hai."

"Ha! Ar-ef-oh-els! Do you even know how to use a gun?" America demonstrated with his paintball rifle. "Here, it goes like this-"

"Yes, I know how to operate weapons, America-kun." Japan was kind of surprised by America's reaction. Did all of the Western nations see Japan this way?

"Well, okay, ha ha!" America marched away to his side of the field. "Whenever you're ready!"

Japan sighed and prepared himself for the battle.

"Relax." France gave him a pat on the back, which sent a jolt up Japan's spine. "Like I said before, it's a game, non?"

Still trapped in a cage of Italy's arms, Germany managed to put the music box on the ground. "Just do not try and kill yourself, Japan." Germany sat down by the box, a meter away from the beer cart, and thus Italy sat down with him. "…W-Why are you still doing that, Italy?"

Italy tilted his head, bewildered by the question. "Hugs are nice and warm, ve~!" Italy finally released his friend from the embrace, so that he could stretch his arms. "Ve~! I'm sleepy…"

Germany tightened. Italy was too cute for him to handle. "J-Ja, g-go to sleep then. There is no reason for you to pay attention to America."

"Bene~!" Italy sat his head down on Germany's lap. "Buonanotte~!"

An explosive shudder struck the large nation. "N-N-Nein, g-get off!" Mortified, Germany picked up Italy's head and moved it to the grass. "Th-That is not allowed!"

"Sì..." Italy answered sleepily, but he still snuggled up by Germany's leg to take a midday siesta.

That was preferable, since Italy wasn't near any inappropriate areas now. But Germany was effectively stuck there, sitting by his warm sleeping friend. Well, Germany could leave, but at the same time he could not. It's complicated that way, right?

No, it was actually blindingly simple. Italy's head against his side gave Germany not only a warm, disorienting stir somewhere in his chest, but also a feeling of peace that he had not felt since he had arrived on the island. It was strange, yet there was nothing inherently wrong with it, so Germany only tensed a bit and tried not to draw too much attention from the others.

France smirked and poured a new mug of beer for Germany. "Here, I have a feeling that you'll need this."

Germany reluctantly accepted the drink but his wary, narrowed gaze reminded France that they were still on dangerous terms.

"Yo, people! Look, we're going to start!" America called, but no one cared. Japan did not waiting mind at all.

To America's further dismay, Russia approached the Axis powers. "Comrade Germany, is that the music box that Italy gave me?"

Russia was not thinking about the reenactment anymore, but Germany was and he hoped that Russia would not light another bottle of vodka and probably napalm on fire. "Ja…?" Germany scratched his neck. "China gave it to me…"

China had the courage to come closer and speak up. "Y-Yeah, Russia, I did not want you getting the wrong-"

Russia's face turned dark, and France ducked to hide himself behind the keg of beer.

China shuddered and felt his back grow sweaty, so he changed his strategy. "U-Um, I, uh, I a-already made s-seven more like it last night. I-I do not need it anymore, aru."

"Da? How nice. Chto russkomoo zdorovo, to nemtsoo, klassnaya pornuha." Russia smiled. "As America says, one man's trash is another man's treasure."

China scrunched up his face. Russia's literal proverb meant something a little different than its English translation, and it made him nervous.

Luckily, Germany did not know enough Russian to translate it, and even if Italy did, he was asleep.

"Enjoy the box as I have, comrade." Russia left them with the most innocent smirk on his face.

Shuddering, China decided that he needed to stay as far away from the former Soviet as possible, so China took a mug and stayed by the beer cart. "I-I'm going to be an Axis power for this round, aru."

"Très bien, China." France poured some beer for him. "You drink booze, non?"

"O-Of course! My land has had beer for nine thousand years, aru! Give me that." China took a sip of it and sat in between the Frenchman leaning the cart and the Italian leaning on the German.

"What did Russia just say, China?" Germany asked dismally.

China crossed his legs beneath him. "Aru?"

"Hey, guys! We're waiting for you! Pay attention!" America shouted at them but was ignored again.

Germany read China's face and knew that something was off. "What did he just say in Russian?"

"Oh, eh…" China moved his hair behind his ear. "It w-was a version of an old proverb, aru."

"What was it?" France reappeared and replaced his elbow on the cart.

"Well, the old version was, What is good for a Russian, is death for a German."

"Vunderbar…" Germany slapped himself on the face again. Hm, Death for a German, that sounds right.

"Ha, that is clever." France refilled his mug of beer. "What is the new version?"

China blushed. "Oh, well, I would rather not say."

"Come on, you can tell us!" France prodded. "We may not have all been friends during the war, but this is modern times! So, tell us what Russia said!"

China did not entirely agree but, who knows, maybe this proverb was not so bad in the West? "Uh, v-very well." China cleared his throat. "He said, What is good for a Russian, is a cool porn movie for a German."

Germany twitched, and his eyes opened wider.

France laughed. "So true, non?"

"That is not true at all!" Germany roared, more angry than embarrassed. "Why must he say such things about me!"

A paintball came soaring by them, hitting the beer keg, painting it yellow, and knocking it off of the cart. "Hey, guys!" America finally had their attention. "Dudes, we're starting! You have to watch us!"

France put the keg back and watched them. China was more than happy for a distraction. Germany shook and fumed in silence, while Italy dreamed about pasta and tomato sauce, with wurst on the side.

Behind America, England and Russia were already quiet. England was trying to get himself drunk again, while Russia contented himself with staring at his fellow Eastern Ally across the field.

America puffed out his chest and brought his hands to his hips. "Okay! So, this is when my fleet gets attacked totally by surprise-"

Japan shook a little. "B-But I warned you about the Hawaii Operation, America-kun!"

"Totally by surprise!" America boasted. "And despite the huge setback, I still become the hero of the world!" He raised his gun in the air. "All right, Battle of the United States of America, 1941!"

"Eto, America…"

"You pillock!" England shouted. "The battle wasn't even in the states!"

"Stupid England!" America chuckled. "It was at Hawaii, totally a state!"

"Wanker! Hawaii wasn't a state until 1959! Until then, it was a bloody territory!"

"I think the heat is getting to your head or something, England. I mean, it's not really hot out, but it must be a desert here compared to your awful weather!" America set his gun in his hands. "Japan, start the battle!"

Japan nodded calmly, but his knees were so weak that he could hardly stand. He truly did not want to attack America. The essential reason that he had attacked America in the first place was that American and Japanese had been competing for imperialism in the Pacific Ocean. America had taken so many islands in the Pacific Ocean, and Japan was just trying to get them back.

But personally, Japan considered it a matter of honor as much as he considered it a struggle for resources. He had fought to protect his land and his name, and if that required a kamikaze dive, so be it. Failure to win a battle was disgraceful, but to be captured as a prisoner of war was the worst possible outcome.

Actually, Japan had been lied to for most of the war. He had thought that all of the battles between his fleet and the American fleet were decisive Japanese victories. That was, until 1944, when the invasions came to the home islands and the truth became clear.

As men of honor, the suddenly inevitable occupation of Japan by the Americans made several Japanese choose between honor and life, and some chose honor. Of course Japan would do no such thing. He had a family of seventy million to care for. Even when the Americans took over the show and executed his Prime Minister, Japan resisted the temptation of honor.

If the Americans had touched the Emperor of Japan, then that would have been a different story.

"Yo, Japan! You're taking too long."

Japan pointed his weapon at America. "H-Hai." He held it there, trying to pull the trigger.

But then he just ended up thinking about America's rejected phone calls from before. Japan may be a bit of a loner, but America was naturally a social person, and didn't he need some friends?

"What's your problem! Shoot, already!"

Japan lowered his paintball gun. "…That would be difficult…"

When Japanese people say something like, That would be difficult, they really mean something like, No way in hell.

But Americans aren't aware of this. "What? It would be easy! Do you need help pulling your trigger? I thought I showed you how to operate a gun!"

Japan nervously reminded himself of the culture difference, and that he had no choice but to be direct. "G-Gomen nasai. I am sorry, but I cannot do this, America-kun."

America raised a brow. "Why not? Is your finger broken?"

France laughed out loud, but no one else did.

Japan bent down and laid the gun on the partially burned ground. "I do not want to shoot, America-kun."

America scratched his head, confused. "Oh, you don't like paintball? Uh, I guess we could do something else… Oh, I know what you like!" America dropped the gun, opened his bomber jacket, and took out the portable Japanese racing game he had used earlier. "England and I played this on the plane, but he sucked at it! Do you want to play this?"

"Brilliant. What else do you have in that jacket, America?" England sneered, not really drunk yet but getting close. "Maybe that's where you keep your brain…"

China stated simply, "Wow, I did not know Japan was such a pacifist, aru."

"Verdammt!" Germany was very upset. "I did not know that was an option! There was no such thing as a video game during the war!"

Japan agreed that this was unfair but he answered America's question with a nod. "Hai. Thank you, America-kun."

Germany growled, and yet Italy continued to "ve~" in his sleep. England was also peeved, and he looked down resentfully at his paint-stained uniform.

"Awesome! Here, you take this one." America came over to the Axis side and gave a red hand-held device to Japan. "And I'll use this." America popped opened the blue one.

Japan's calm face weakened. "There is not very much energy left in these…"

"Don't worry, I have spare ones if we need them!" America showed Japan another green hand-held to prove his point. "There's lots where those came from!"

"Eto, why not just have spare batteries, not spare devices?"

America looked curiously at Japan, then laughed and shook his head. "Seriously, Japan, you're as silly as England sometimes. Okay! You started the war, so you have to start the match!"

Japan sighed and loaded up a round for them to play.

"Oh, they play the electronic game." Russia smiled to England. "Reminds me of when I made Tetris and then lost it to you, the Americans, the Japanese, the Dutch, and my government."

"Whatever." England only drank his beer, but Russia grabbed him and took the Brit with him to watch America and Japan play.

France smirked to Germany and China. "Well, I am not into these sorts of Japanese games, but you two should watch, too. It seems fun."

China shrugged. "Sounds good, aru. But, that game was probably made in my home." China got up and left his beer on the ground.

Germany, though, was kept to the ground by his Italian friend. "I… refuse."

"Ha, fair enough, mon cher." France took Germany's mug and poured him some more.

China, as well as Russia and England, gathered around America and Japan to watch the game.

"Hey, wait, get off of that character! Get off~!" America whimpered like a kid. "I want to be the red guy!"

"Red guy?" Japan asked, bewildered. America was indeed obsessed with video games and anime, like Japan. But unlike Japan, America did not obsess to the point where he learned the name of every weapon, the layout of every map, or the voice actors of every cartoon. "…Hai."

"Awesome! Which map do you want to play, the one that looks like an infinity sign with a plus sign on the right or the one that looks like a backslash, two hyphens, and the letter zee?"

"Zee?" England scoffed. "There is no such thing as a zee. It's pronounced zed, not zee!"

Japan faltered. "Eto, America-kun, the names are right there on the screen…" Japan murmured quietly. "Et, eto, the first one seems fine."

America grinned. "Cool. Now, time to face the wrath of my fiftieth state!"

"Bugger!" England's dignity eroded with a drunken, burning rage. "You never listen to me, America!"

"Hey, shut up, England! It's hard to ignore you when you're yelling so loud." America bent his knees in anticipation. "You did attack me by surprise, so you can have a head start, Japan."

"H-H-Hai…"

Meanwhile, France spoke softly and not-so-furtively, "So, Germany, what kind of porn do you-?"

"H-Halt den Mund!" Germany snapped one arm back around France's neck and pulled him down, choking him from an unusual angle. "Do you need something to do, France!"

"Non! Non, s'il vous plaît!" France struggled fiercely and nearly cried. "No more work or exercise, I beg of you! Do not be so cruel to a poor inebriated Frenchman!"

"Then behave yourself." Germany let him go.

"Ah, grâce-"

Germany looked at Italy, sleeping in a copy of Germany's outfit, and remembered the dress that was still in his tent. "And, France…"

France took a step back. "…Qu'est-ce?"

Germany looked away. "Why, why did you make that dress?"

France paused. "Eh?"

"Ha ha!" America squatted several times to express his amusement while his thumbs wildly attacked the buttons on his game. "I'm beating you already, Jap, and it's still the first lap! Dude, it's almost like you're letting me win! You must suck at this."

Japan did not show any emotions, and expressed his sentiments only with a short nod.

"Which one is Japan?" China looked over Japan's shoulder. "The green dinosaur or the small red man?"

Japan inwardly soured. He wished they would refer to the characters he had worked so hard on by name, and not vague descriptions! "T-The dinosaur."

The game itself was not very interesting to the other countries. Japan was driving his kart expertly, executing all of the sharp turns with careful timing. America's character, however, seemed to be drunk and would swerve around, his top priority being the attack power-ups and not the actual end of the course.

But Japan was making deliberate mistakes, and the so-called green dinosaur fell behind.

"Oh, that is all?" France wasn't sure what to say to Germany. If he said the wrong thing, he might be given another involuntary workout, but if he said nothing, he might be given another involuntary workout! "I, eh, I wanted to help. How could I be so inhuman as to ignore the suffering of a poor-?"

"Never do it again!"

France shuddered. "Y-Yes…" He was lying, but he was too scared to say anything else.

"But… I realize that…" Germany reddened and lowered his head. "You were trying to… do something nice, even if it was completely inappropriate, and utterly awful, and entirely wrong!"

France sighed and whispered, "Your face betrays you, but I will play along."

"Was?" Germany turned sharply on France.

"R-Rien, nothing!" France waved his hands around.

Germany grunted. "Sick Frenchman… Here, just, take this, and leave me alone." Hiding his face as best as he could, Germany hastily took the wooden box he had left on the ground and gave it to France.

"Oh, this is the music box that Italy was crying about?" France accepted the gift sloppily but circumspectly examined its every detail. "It is really quite nice."

"Ja, Italy made it… I cannot keep the thing, it is too… juvenile… ja, it is too juvenile for me." Germany's blue eyes were drawn to the Italian. "Think of it as a sign of, erm, appreciation, I guess, and a request that you never, ever, help me again! And tell no one of this!"

"Well, I will take it." France put the music box under his capelet. "You have a terrible way of giving thanks."

Germany glared at France in an attempt to intimidate him, but it only showed France the strong man's pink embarrassment. "I have had enough of you! Go back to the Allies!"

"You cannot get rid of me that easily!" France wagged his finger, and Germany had the feeling that France was already planning some new variation of torment.

"Woo, yes! I'm number one!" America jumped up. "I win! I win!" He shoved the game device in England's and Russia's respective faces. "Check it, I beat Japan!"

"Yes, you wouldn't want to be, hic, historically accurate now, would you?" England almost fell over, he was so drunk now. He swatted at the game as if it were a mosquito. "Get that thing out of my, hic, face."

"Very good, America. May I see it?" Russia innocently touched the device. But as soon as he did, the game ran out of power and shut down.

"Ah, scary! You broke my game!" America took the game away from Russia. "Hey guys, what happens next?"

China remarked quickly, "Japan invaded the land of Thailand, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Hong Kong, aru. Then Indonesia, Burma, Singapore, me again..."

"America and Great Britain declared war on Japan." Russia added happily. "Along with several other countries!"

Japan said shyly, "The Axis powers declared war on America after that."

America shook his head without reserve. "No, I mean like, something important." America took the game back from Japan and put both of the devices in his jacket. "What was I doing now?"

"Hardly anything!" England swung his mug threateningly at America. "You, hic, got attacked by U-boats frequently. And you sent me some troops, hic, in 1942!"

Japan looked down. "Eto, your planes dropped bombs on Tokyo and other cities."

Russia beamed merrily, but created an aura of darkness. "And then the Soviet Union started dark project that no one must know about."

The other nations stared at Russia.

"Da?"

America laughed. "You can't be talking about nuclear weapons! I had those before you did!"

"I began development before you-"

"Nope, not possible!"America cut off Russia. "Bombs are my thing. You just stole my plans for nukes and everything and copied my stuff. You didn't come up with anything yourself! Everything in the world is my idea!"

Russia seemed to pulsate with a strange malice, so Japan muttered for the safety of all, "America-kun, that is only partially true…"

"It's absolutely true! Everything that has ever been invented in the history since the beginning of, uh, me, was totally made by me and no one else!" America beat his chest twice where his heart was with a fist, and then made a victory sign."Yeah! I'm so awesome."

"Eto, eto, eto…" Japan felt the need to say something, but he could not find the words.

Hero this, hero that. More so than any other country that still had a place on the map, America loved to idolize himself and stress how he was the leader of the world. America planted flags of himself all over his land and every day, he and his people indoctrinated themselves with some strange propaganda called the Pledge of Allegiance, as if he were still at war with the Soviets, which was kind of odd, because the Pledge itself was written by a socialist.

But America's self-worship made it all the more difficult for Japan to understand him. America was both geologically and culturally separated from everyone else, and he knew so little about his fellow nations, and yet he continued to assert his leadership over them. Yes, others would copy him, but who was really America's friend?

Japan knew then what he had to say. "Y-Yes, you are awesome, America-kun."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Even more thanks for reviewing!


	5. Desertion, the Big Three and, Oh

Hello, comrades. We bring to you the update early because we may be too busy to update for some time, da?

Sorry if we don't update soon, but school gets in the way, aru!

Ah, thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and the like, mes chéris! They are absolutely delightful.

I agree, though why you lot would even review this piece of rubbish is beyond me.

Ja, ja, some reviews are good, but why do so many people enjoy watching me suffer? And they call me the sadist...

Eto, can we skip this next part? There are a lot of awkward moments in this one.

Ha ha, cool, all the more reason to read it! And I know you guys will keep reviewing, right? Right!

Enjoy, ve~!

* * *

America stopped and looked at Japan. "What?"

Japan blushed a little, and answered quietly, "Et, eto, I said that, eto, you are awesome."

America, for once, was struck. This was probably the first time that anyone had ever reciprocated his patriotism. Of course, America knew that they all secretly loved the kick-ass hero of the universe, but none of the other nations ever showed it before. What did Japan mean by it? "Japan…"

"Aru!" China shouted. "What is wrong with you, Japan?"

"How can you say such a thing!" The drunken England was furious, but then a figurative cloud hung over his head and he moped in relative silence. "Wanker, wanker, wanker…"

America adjusted his glasses and stared blankly at Japan. Slowly, a small smile grew on his face, until it burgeoned into a laugh. "Ha ha! Of course, I am awesome." America put his hands on his hips and made a pose. But then he was quiet for a few seconds. "…So, uh, I, uh, have to go and get a few things from the camp. Be right back!" America gave everyone a playful salute and ran away.

"W-What the hell was all that? Blooming, barmy little…" England gloomily went over to get a refill of beer, and dropped the two guns he was holding by the beer cart.

"Ah, cheer up, mon cher." France poured the drink for him. "You know I still think highly of you…" France rudely stifled a laugh.

"Arsehole!" England tried to choke France but Germany kicked England's feet and tripped him. He fell callously onto the dirt, and looked up in confusion. "Whoa, what was that…?"

"You are drunk again, England." Germany answered lazily. "How can you not have a tolerance of alcohol at your age?"

England wasn't even listening to him. "How dare someone praise America! It is cruel and unjust!"

"Europeans are so immature, aru!" China picked up the other two guns on the field. "But at least we don't have to reenact anything until America returns-"

"I'm back!" America shouted suddenly, and out of nowhere plopped a large wheat-colored bag the size of a person down on the Allies' side of the field.

Russia came over to see. "What is that, comrade?"

"Hey, no peeking!" America stood defensively in front of it. "Stay away, commie!"

Russia smiled. "Every time you say that, I think you refer to China."

"W-What?" China heard Russia say his name out of context and did not like it. "What? What's g-going on over there? Is America doing the Manhattan Project again?"

"No! I'm doing nothing! No one is allowed to look into my super secret bag of unknown awesomeness!" America, however, took the privilege of stuffing his own head into his bag, while making sure that Russia could not see into it. "Who knows what happens next?"

"America-kun, what are you…? Eto, eto, Germany-kun invaded Egypt, but-"

"Brazil declared war on the Axis, aru!"

"I laid siege to Stalingrad, though-"

"Wait, who said that?" America took his head out of his mystery bag. "Was it you, Germany? Was it?"

Germany scowled flatly. "Ja, but I-"

"You're awfully retarded for a German. Didn't you already invade the Soviet Union?"

"Idiot, invasions do not happen overnight! The Battle of Stalingrad alone lasted more than six months!"

America laughed it off. "Okay, if you say so. We're going to do that!" America gently kicked Russia to get him to move. "Go get captures by the Nazis, Soviets!"

Even though the evil flicker in Russia's eye haunted the field, the entertained Russian obeyed and went over to the Axis powers.

China shuddered and surreptitiously left the Axis' side to return to the Allies' side. England was too hammered to get up.

Russia happily watched China leave. "China behaves strangely." Then he looked at Germany, and therefore, Italy. "You lay siege to Stalingrad now, comrade?"

Germany groaned. "Gott, America, forcing me to… I did not even keep Stalingrad for very long..."

Actually, the loss of Stalingrad really meant the end of the war for Germany, and it had been an awful struggle. The city center changed hands thirteen times, and by the end of the battle the city was mostly reduced to rubble. For a while, the Germans controlled most of the land, but they were not prepared to endure a long-term siege and the remaining German troops in Stalingrad surrendered in early 1943.

Germany just wanted this to all be over.

Italy abruptly yawned and stretched his arms up. His sleepy brown eyes fluttered, and when they caught sight of Germany, they gleamed with drowsy delight. "Hi, Germany, ve~!"

Germany started. Oh, damn, that was cute. The light warmth that filled Germany whenever Italy shined all of his goodness onto him always made Germany forget his troubles, even if it was just for a moment.

"Hm." Germany strained his voice to sound particularly annoyed and not at all swooning. "G-Guten Morgen…"

Strangely, Russia smiled admirably at the exchanged looks between Germany and Italy. But then Russia stared at France and said, "Hello, comrade."

"W-Welcome to the A-Axis powers, Russia." France did not make any attempts to offer Russia beer, and it took all the strength in his body not to hide beneath the beer cart. "D-Do not hurt me, please? And, try not to step on my friend there."

Russia looked down and moved off of England.

England let out a string of, "Wanker, wanker, wanker, wanker, hic, wanker, wanker…"

America waved his remaining Ally over. "Hey, China, what happens next in the war?"

China did not bother to get a look into the large bag. He really did not care what America was hiding in there, honest! "You held a conference at Casablanca in Morocco, with England, aru."

"Ha ha! Casablanca is a movie, not a place. What really happened?"

China glowered. "You are an ass!"

Japan, who was still standing idle and confused in the middle of the field, finally worked up the courage to meander toward the Allies. Japan did not understand what America was doing, which seemed to be a response to Japan's praise, but he wanted to ascertain for certain that it was not atomic weapons. "T-The Battle of Midway happened around this time, America-kun."

But when Japan came close, America deliberately sat on his bag and pretended it wasn't there. "Huh? What's Midway?"

Japan was too embarrassed to answer, for a few reasons. What had come over America?

"That was when you started winning the Pacific War, aru." China replied easily. "You also captured Guadalcanal. By then, the Battle of Stalingrad was over. So, Russia should not be with the Axis, aru…"

America shrugged. "Meh. Let Russia hang out with the Axis guys a little longer. What else was going on?"

Japan nervously advised, "I, eto, I had a new military dictator boss. Russia-kun attacked Sweden-kun and Finland-kun."

"I believe Germany invaded Hungary, aru." China let himself take a few stray looks at what America was sitting on.

"Is that all? Come on, that is all so mind-blowingly lame!" America moaned. "Come on, Japan, there must have been something going on with the Axis!"

Japan looked behind him, to his old war-time friends. He noticed that Italy was waking up. With a pit in his stomach, Japan said softly, "This was a bad time for us. Several Axis troops surrendered in the Soviet Union and North Africa. America-kun and England-kun began invading Italy-"

"What? Awesome! Fuck yeah!" America stood on top of his bag. "Everyone, stop everything! And since none of you are doing anything at all, that should be easy! We've finally gotten to the part where the Allies start beating up the Axis! Oh, yeah!"

Confused and conflicted as a result of America's behavior, a stoic Japan went back to his Axis. He said to Germany, "I am sorry."

Germany did not understand yet why.

"So, listen up, less important countries!" America shouted irrelevantly. "Germany, Italy, go meet England in the middle of the field, okay! And grab those guns!"

"What about, hic, you, you bloody yank?" England's voice cracked at the end, and he hated it.

"Me? I'm busy! Go, go, go!" America commanded with a great smile.

England swore colorfully and incomprehensibly. Russia helped him stand, but England did not show any gratitude and stumbled angrily to the field.

Germany tapped Italy. "Get up."

"But I'm still sleepy, ve~! Let's sleep some more!" Italy reached around Germany's waist. "Please, sleep with me, Germany~!"

Germany was so embarrassed by that unfortunate choice of words that he kicked Italy off of him. "N-Nein! W-We have w-work to do."

"Ow, okay…" Italy whined, but he never was very persistent. He stood up, waved goodbye to France and Russia, and meandered to greet England. "Ciao~!

Germany uneasily combed his hair back with his fingers and grabbed the paintball guns. He tossed one to Italy and England each. Both nations failed to catch them, and scrambled to pick them up.

America laughed. "Ha ha, you all suck! All right, guys, this is it! The Allies are totally invading Italy now! Italian Campaign, 1943!"

Germany froze, except for a noticeable spasm in his shoulders and a stutter. "N-N-Nein!"

Italy jumped gleefully, clapping his hands several times in delight. "Yay! The Allies are coming over! Well, they come to my brother Romano and he surrenders to America and England and Romano tries to capture me but I run away and Germany saves me and I stay friends with Germany and Japan, ve~!"

That was not how it happened.

No matter how hard Germany tried to prepare Italy for the invasion, it made no difference. When the Allies invaded through the land of Southern Italy, the Italian Fascist government was overthrown and captured. The new Italian government surrendered to the Allies without putting up a fight at all. Romano welcomed the British and the Americans as liberators, and quickly declared war on Germany.

In Northern Italy, the German army invaded. They entered Rome and freed the old Fascist government so that the north of Italy would remain an Axis power. In reality, the old Fascist government was subject entirely to the whims of the Germans, and so Northern Italy became a puppet state of the Third Reich.

Essentially, Italy was invaded by both the Allies and the Axis, and was split between them.

Japan's blank expression almost became sad. "This is cruel…."

"This is hilarious, love." France retorted. "If anything, this is not cruel enough. Maybe I should intervene?"

"China looks lonely." Russia mused. "He should not be alone with America."

"Huh? T-That is cute, I guess." France chuckled uncertainly. "I-I do not suppose, you would appreciate having some help with China?"

Russia's sudden pervasive darkness made Japan flinch backward.

"Ç-ça fait r-rien!" France hid behind the keg of beer. "Never mind…"

"Da?" Russia asked innocently. "Oh, well. It is easier for the mare when the woman gets off the cart."

"Oh?"

The idle Axis powers were confused and quiet after that.

"T-This is absolutely unacceptable!" Germany stood defensively in front of Italy. "I refuse to allow this reenactment to take place-"

The sound of a buzzing power saw impolitely interrupted the German. It came from inside of America's bag. Evidently, he was building something in there, and his flashing eyes and wide grin revealed his project to be of colossal importance.

England cradled his head in his arms and cried out, "Bloody hell, the noise!"

Germany nearly exploded in anger. "S-Shut that off!"

America did not stop, so China tapped his shoulder and yelled over the cry of the saw. "America, what are you doing in there? If you aren't going to watch, then why should they reenact anything, aru!"

"But I am watching! And this is funny!" America laughed. The screech of the unseen saw died and America pulled his hands out of his large bag. "I'm working here! No looking!"

China glared. "Fine, but no power tools, aru! Put it away!"

"Ah, man!" America groaned in slight annoyance. "All right, all right, keep your pants on!"

"Aru!" Offended, China whacked his frying pan against America.

America yelped. "Ow! Come on, what was that for?"

"That was for the remark about my pants, aru!"

"But I say it all the time!"

"Then you are always rude, aru!"

America rubbed the back of his head. "Man, the Chinese are so weird…"

Germany palmed his forehead, sinking into a pool of hatred and regret. These people were idiots, so why was Germany so upset about this? Clearly, no one else cared about the reenactments. He was the only one remembering the war, and reliving his nightmare, remembering the suffering of those closest to him for which he was ultimately responsible.

At least no one had mentioned the Juden yet. And he knew someone would.

Germany sighed. "Italy…"

Behind him, Italy stopped thinking about food for a moment and replied, "Germany~!"

"Ja, well…" Germany turned around to face Italy. The charming, oblivious Italian face made it hard for Germany to think sometimes. That face had followed him through the war, even though Italy lost his brother to the Allies and was home to a large resistance movement. In truth, most Italians wished for nothing more than to be free of the Nazi oppressors.

A country's heart lies with its people, so Italy must have resented Germany, too. If so, then why did Italy stay with him? Did Germany make him do it?

With that monstrous thought, Germany shut his eyes and ordered, "Go to the Allies."

Italy's squinting eyes opened a bit more than normal. "Ve~?"

Germany refused to look at the small, gentle man. "You may not have noticed, Italy, but we are reenacting World War Two. The Allies are invading now. So, you can go to them."

Italy shifted balance around on his feet. "Okay!"

Germany opened his eyes to see that Italy had not moved. "W-What are you waiting for? Go."

Italy swung his paintball gun in circles. "I'm happy here, Herr Germany~!"

Germany paused. He had not been called that in a long time. Strangely, the silly, obsolete name brought back some good memories. Despite all that Germany did, Italy had enjoyed their time together, right? He was always happy, or needlessly scared, but never unhappy. Maybe Italy had stayed because he wanted to stay. Was it possible for someone to be oblivious enough to truly enjoy the company of the hated, evil, callous Third Reich, and to feel safe with him?

For a moment, Germany smiled.

"Holà! Holà, look!" France pushed himself over the keg and pointed eccentrically at Germany. "Look at his face! He's smiling!" And he whispered suggestively, "He must be into that name…"

Germany realized too late what he was doing and stopped immediately. "I am not!" He should not be happy about this! He had invaded Italy during the war; he should not be happy. Germany should never be happy about the war! He was never protecting Italy; he was hoarding him!

"You were right, France-kun." Japan noted apprehensively. "What does this mean? Is it a sign of Nostradamus?"

China said nothing, for fear that Russia would misinterpret it. But America hollered, "What, Germany smiled? Damn, I totally missed it! Do it again, Nazi!"

"Everyone, hic, forgot about me, damn it..." England erected his gun and pointed it at Germany. "Surrender Italy, hic, to me!"

No.

Yes?

No!

"Nein! I am done with this game!" Germany directed his gun at America and fired.

America's bag was painted green. The strong country pulled his hands out of the bag and waved them around. "Ow! What the hell?"

Germany brought the gun to his knee and snapped it in half. He let the pieces fall to the ground. "I am getting off of this island myself, or I am staying here forever! But I will not participate in this sick form of American entertainment any longer!" Germany pulled his legs strictly together, snapped his captor an ironic salute, and marched away.

"H-Hey! Where're you going?" America stood up and left his bag. "What do you think you're-?"

"Ich verlasse!" Germany stormed past Italy, then Japan, France, and Russia.

"Wait!" America ran after him. "I can't have World War Two without Nazi Germany!"

Germany kept that in mind while he disappeared past the trees.

"A-Aspetti, don't leave me alone, Germany!" Italy cried and ran after him.

France let Italy pass but stopped America from going any further. "Mon cher, do not chase them. Give Germany a ten minute break, and I am sure that he will return."

America complied, and the dictatorial grin that he usually wore was gone. His raised shoulders slumped and he murmured sadly, "Why, why did he leave?"

"Because, hic, you are an arsehole, America!" England assumed that the reenactment must be over, so he went to the Axis side to get some more beer. He tripped over one of the pieces of Germany's gun once, but that didn't stop him for long. "Give me some, hic, more beer, frog!"

"Anything for a friend." France poured him another glass, but he was not thinking about England too much right now. After all, Germany was alone! This was the perfect time for his new plan.

"Do not feel bad, America-kun." Japan, terrified of close contact, shuddered as he ventured comforting America with a quick pat on the shoulder. It was not as bad as he expected, but he would not be doing that anytime soon. He exhaled in relief. "Eto, do not push Germany-kun so hard. France is right; he will come back."

The same words that failed to mean anything when France said them somehow cheered America up when they were from Japan."Great, thanks, Japan!" America grabbed Japan around his shoulders with a bear hug. "You're the man! You always know what to say."

France pouted.

Japan trembled. "Et, eto, eto …"

Alone on the Allied side, China side-stepped over to the unattended green bag.

"Hey!" America released Japan to yell at China. "Get away from that!"

China huffed. He really did not care about the bag, really. With nothing else to do, China regrouped with the five remaining nations on the Axis side.

"America," Russia said lightly, "We hold Teheran conference in Iran now, da?"

"Oh, like an anime conference?"

Japan lowered his head. "A-Anime convention, America-kun."

"Niet, is conference after invasion of Italy." Russia continued. "Big Three meet in a Soviet Embassy."

"Ha, yeah, all right!" America regained his enthusiasm and resumed his fierce dictatorship with a thrust of his fist. "The Big Three will meet while Japan and France go bring Germany and Italy back!"

"What about me? You only remember the Big Three of Europe!" China prepared himself and raised his frying pan. "What about the Big Three of the Pacific: you, England, and me, aru!"

"Ha, you're probably lying but I'll go along." America pushed China's pan down. "We can do the meeting of the Big Four!"

"Idiot, the Big Four refers to, hic, the First World War! I doubt you remember that one, either." England noticed the wooden music box in France's hand. "Huh? What's that thing?"

"This? Oh, nothing." France put it behind his back.

England scoffed him and proceeded to lose his balance and collapse on the ground. "Wanker…"

Japan was already walking away, so France darted off to catch up with him.

America pulled England back up. "So, you two get to work on the conference thing while I go back over there and work on my super secret project of unknown awesomeness."

Russia asked kindly, "What are you working on in the bag, America?"

"You can't know, commie! I wouldn't tell you about the Manhattan project, and I surely won't tell you about this!"

"Then I must learn through my spies again, comrade."

America laughed. "You didn't have any spies at my house! I would have known about them! Ha, stupid Russians."

"It is no wonder that Germany left, aru!" China poked his finger in America's ribs. "You are such an idiot!"

Russia leaned closer, and bent a little at the hip. "Hello, China. It is later now, da?"

China started and took a step back. "W-What?"

Russia grabbed China around his neck. This time, it was entirely the Russian's own doing, and the darkness that normally marked him gave way to a welcoming light. "Remember? You said that we could continue this later. Now, it is later, da?"

"G-Get off of me!" China replied as firmly as possible. "And I never said that! B-But I did say, you should be concerned about my face, aru!"

Russia smirked. "Oh, I am."

China did not like the sound of that. "Uh, th-that is g-good, so will you-"

Russia grabbed China's hair and pulled the nervous man into a soft kiss.

America laughed so hard that he accidentally hammered England back down into the dirt, knocking the drunk country unconscious.

* * *

Japan was very uncomfortable.

"Ha ha, did you hear what Italy said? Herr Germany, ha ha!" France's chuckle was careful and controlled, unlike America's boisterous laugh. "And yet the poor bastard insists that the dress I made for Italy was a mistake! How hypocritical."

"France-kun…" Japan pleaded. "Please talk about something else."

"Ah, Japan, I have a wonderful scheme, but I will need your help to execute it. What do you say?"

Japan wasn't so sure. What little information he had been able to gleam about the morning incident made him reluctant to be involved. "Eto, eto…"

"You must help me! Here, I will give you something." As they walked, France gave Japan a small wooden box. "You can have this."

Japan cautiously took the object. "Is this the music box that Italy-kun was crying about before?"

"Yes, and I assume that it plays nice music. But don't open it, or you might scare the other Axis powers away!" France lowered his own voice, and smiled deviously. "Do you accept the gift? Of course you do."

Japan nodded, but he scrunched up his face. Now he owed France something in return, and he expected the worst. Resigned to his well-mannered fate, Japan put away the box and answered, "A-Arigato."

"Japan! Japan!" Italy's cries assaulted them as the worried little nation came sprinting back. Italy lurched onto Japan and shook him ecstatically. "Japan! I was following Germany and asking what he was doing but he was just grunting a lot so I think he might be injured somewhere and then he told me to go back to get America's chainsaw so that he could get lumber and I don't know what that means but I wanted to help and so I'm running to get it but I am afraid it will be too heavy so will you help me?"

"Eto… I, eto…"

"He is building a boat? That is insane! Quelle horreur!" France stressed at the mere thought of the amount of hard labor required. "We do not even know where we are!"

"I-Italy-kun." Japan, with great effort, gently pushed Italy off. "We need to bring Germany-kun back and continue reenacting the war."

Italy shook his head furiously. "I have to help Germany! And we're a team, so you should help, too!"

Japan murmured, "…Eto, that would be difficult."

"You must speak more directly, mon cher, or Italy will not understand." France gracefully stepped in between Japan and Italy. "Vous voyez, little Italy, we want to help him in a different way."

"Ve~?" Italy paused and paid close attention.

France demurely drew Italy closer in a half-hug. "You see, he is still suffering from his, oh, his stomach pain, non?"

Because Italy was too oblivious to understand, Japan had to be doubly embarrassed for the both of them, and his cheeks tinged pink. What had France just said about the need to speak directly?

"Sì, sì!" Italy nodded happily. "I should wear the dress again, ve~!"

Finding this situation to be too much to bear, Japan decided that now was a good time to continue walking. Unfortunately, Italy and France tagged along.

"Eh, not this time, cher Italy. My new plan is far more sophisticated." France pushed Italy along with his right hand, while explaining with his left hand. "Think of it as a game."

"Eto…" Japan yearned to say something, but it was caught in his throat. "F-France-kun… eto…"

"Ah, Japan, I did not forget about you." France pushed Italy further so that all three of the nations were walking side by side, with France in the middle. "How would you like to help Germany? Hmm… Oh, you like role-playing games, n'est-ce pas?"

Japan's eyes widened, and he immediately understood the implications of that assertion. He still tried to avoid it, though. "H-Hai, France-kun, like the kind played as board games."

France laughed delicately. "Bien sûr, you can call it that if you want to."

"O-On second thought, no, I d-do not like them."

* * *

China never saw it coming, and he did not know what to do. Russia captured him in a most unusual way, with locked lips, closed eyes, and hands that were beginning to wander.

China, however, shuddered and his brown eyes opened impossibly wide. Florid, shocked, and frightened, China shoved Russia away and staggered back. "L-Liúm-máng, aru!"

Russia's bright smile only faltered for a moment. "Your face is all better now?"

"Ha ha!" America stepped over the unconscious England to more properly laugh at the Eastern countries. "El oh el, what the hell was that? I didn't know gay was contagious."

"Happiness is always contagious, comrade." Russia kept his gaze on China but did not approach him yet.

China trembled. "R-Russia! W-What is the m-matter with you, aru!" China could not believe this. Russia was not always this stupid! "W-When Am-merica says gay, he does not m-mean happy-!"

"Hey, don't let me interrupt you two!" America grabbed China and pushed him. "Go ahead and kiss again, just let me take a pic with my cell!"

"N-No!" Instantly, China spun around and whacked America with his frying pan.

"Ow, my head! That hurts, you know? And where did the frying pan come from? Do you just carry that thing around all of the time?" America whimpered lazily. "Jeez."

China then turned to point his weapon at his other Ally. "S-Stay away from-"

Russia was already right behind him, though, just centimeters away from China's honor."You look so cute when you are holding that pan, China~"

China screamed. "Máo z-zi!"

"Ha! Oh, you're screwed now!" America quietly bent to the ground shook England. "England, wake up quick, you've got to see this! China's about to get his ass kicked by Russia!"

England turned over in his sleep onto his stomach and murmured, "Not now, little America… Your big brother needs to nap, but we can play later…"

"Come on, England! Get off your drunk ass and laugh with me!" America compelled England to stand on his feet, half awake. "Check it out, Russia's owning China!"

"Huh?" England snapped to attention. "What? What's happening? Ah!" He flinched back into a standing fetal position. "God! Damn it all, my head!"

"You are shivering, comrade?" Russia blissfully gathered the distraught China in his arms again, forcing the frying pan to fall to the ground. "I keep you warm, da? You are my field of sunflowers~"

"Russia, l-let me g-go!" China struggled desperately at the deathly close contact. "A-America, Eng-gland, help me!"

England held his head down. "Blimey, someone kill me…" America laughed and gave him a hearty slap on the back, which earned a hateful glare.

Russia took advantage of the height difference between him and his captive, and nuzzled China's hair. "Become one with Russia..."

The terrified Chinese man did not care about his face anymore. He was scared for his life, and he did not want to die on this obscure island! "N-No, I hate you!" He felt like he was going to faint. "I hate you! Release me, aru!"

Russia stopped. "Da?" He let China go.

China immediately ran backwards, completely ignored the Russian's strange smile, and stuttered," I-I am g-going to ch-check on the A-Axis!" He ran and flailed his arms like his life depended on it.

Russia devotedly watched him go. "The way China rejects me is cute. It is part of his culture, da? I wonder how many times I should ask before I force him~"

"Ha ha! Too bad, commie." America remarked without sympathy. "But hey! Now that you're done being gay, you can stand there and envy me while I build my super secret project of- what! My bag is gone! I left it right there! Where is-?"

Somehow, America's large green bag appeared in Russia's arms and at his feet, and he was looking inside of it. "What is this, comrade? It reminds me of Little Boy you drop on Hiroshima."

"Yo! Get your Russian hands off my bag!" Furious, America pulled it away from Russia. "I knew it, stealing secrets from me again, Russia! And by the way, Little Boy was my bomb! It sounds perverted when you say it."

Russia smiled thoughtfully. "I wonder why China avoids me. Maybe he is weird, like big sister Ukraine."

England tried to ignore the dulling throb in his head for a moment to lean over and look in the bag. "What's all this, anyway? More of your fireworks?"

"Nope! It's way cooler than fireworks, which are still pretty cool." America opened the bag and started throwing tools at his Allies. "Well, since Russia already peeked, you two can help me build it!"

"Of course not! Now, answer my question, yank! Ah!" England ducked as a wrench threw over him. "Cripes, are you trying to knock me out again? And what the bloody hell are you making, America!"

"Get real, Iggy! I'm not going to tell you that easily! It's a gift for someone, so no one else can know what it is before he does!" America reached into the bag and pulled out a wrapped hamburger. "I also happen to keep food in there, but that's unrelated."

* * *

Germany searched through all of the materials available in his camp, but he knew even before then that escape was impossible. What good would all the wood, rope, and nails on the island be, when they were so far away from any civilization?

But how could he go back there and become what he hates most, just for the amusement of some self-indulgent super power?

Looking for an answer to his problems, Germany left Japan's tent and moved on to his own. He noticed that Italy's green and white dress was still there, so he picked it up to move it outside.

Japan met him there. His dark eyes were less emotionless than usual. "Kon'nichiwa."

"Oh, Japan." Germany looked around to see if anyone else was around. "What is it?"

"Germany-kun, would you consider, eto, would you please consider, eto…?" Japan started shaking. "W-Would you p-please, eto…" Japan had worked so hard to prepare himself but this was just too foreign to him.

Germany warily raised an eyebrow. "Ja?"

Japan gulped and started over. "That dress you are holding, Germany-k-kun." He politely extended his hand. "M-May I have it?"

"Oh, you want the dress." Germany rolled his eyes and kept the dress away from the otaku. "France must have put you up to this. Tell him to stop this immaturity at once."

"N-Not exactly." Japan steeled himself. He had to pay attention; the happiness of his friends was at stake! Plus, he still owed France for the gift. "Et, eto… I need… eto…"

"What do you need?"

"Et, eto… "

"Spit it out, Japan!"

"Eto, I want to wear the dress."

Germany lit up with incoherent shock. "You…"

"Hai, Germany-kun." Japan anxiously waited for a response.

"That is… That is…" Germany was at a loss for words. That was the last thing he expected from Japan, who must be the most proper and insecure personified nation on the planet. "… Are you serious?"

"H-Hai."

"Is… Is this one of France's tricks? He wants Italy to wear it, again, does he not?"

Japan avoided answering directly. "I want to wear the dress."

"Um... Then…" Germany thought he understood then. Japan was just trying to get the dress from Germany and then give it to Italy, for the schemes of that sick Frenchman! That had to be the case. Japan's actions made no sense otherwise! "Then, here, take it."

"A-Arig-gato." Japan accepted the dress from Germany.

"But, before you go, you have to put the dress on in front of me. That way, I will know it is not a trick, you see?"

Japan nodded, as if that had always been his intention. "Hai." He took the dress and suppressed the painful feelings manifesting in his brain.

The German soldier-turned-modern-businessman stood calmly and watched Japan, knowing that the Asian man would never wear it, and France's awful games would be ruined.

But then Japan hastily pulled off the top of his replica uniform and pulled the green and white dress on over his head!

Germany was shocked for a second time. "You… You were… You were serious!" His features contorted pathetically and he stared incredulously at Japan.

Once the dress was on, Japan dropped his trousers and folded them. "Thank you, Germany-kun." Japan stood there a while longer without saying anything else.

"Um, Japan…" Germany rubbed the back of his head. "W-Why did you do that?"

"Et, I want to, eto, better understand the Italian culture."

"… By wearing a dress?"

"… Hai."

"… I see."

Japan inhaled deeply, resigned himself to his mission, and suddenly embraced Germany, throwing his arms under the German's shoulders and resting his dark-haired head against the black shirt on the chest.

Germany jumped the tiniest bit. "Was! Japan!"

"I-I a-am sh-showing g-gratit-tude as-s It-taly would-d." Japan was terrified. He could hardly breathe, yet he still maintained his calm expression. Of course, this was not the first time his personal space had been violated, but it was the first time that he had initiated it!

"W-Well…" Germany was confused and surprised. This was not normal behavior for the reserved Japanese man. And the dress did not help; this situation would have been awkward enough without it! But aside from the horrible, horrible, horrible shock value, it was not so bad. At least it was Japan making this gesture, and not Italy. Sure, this had never happened before, but Japan was evidently just trying to learn about Western cultures, right? Germany could respect the initiative. "Fine, if you insist."

But Japan's errand was not quite done yet, and he forced his eyes to stay open. They surreptitiously fell from the German's black shirt and down to the green pants, watching for any suspicious movements. Nothing happened, though.

Japan waited longer, but still nothing occurred down there.

After a while, Germany guided Japan away with a push of the hand. "That is long enough, Japan. Even Italy's hugs do not usually last this long. He does not have the patience for it."

"H-Hai. T-Thank you, G-Germany-kun. I should g-go now, eto, the others-s might be…" Japan stammered the rest of his words in his own language and made haste for the woods in the dress, eager to escape this social nightmare.

Germany remained by his tent, astounded, failing to fully comprehend his Eastern companion.

Wait. Did no one care that Germany was trying to escape the island? And why is Italy taking so long with that saw!

* * *

A somewhat calm and collected China found France and Italy lying down in a thicket of trees, spying on the Axis camp from a safe distance.

Unlike Italy, France was unhappy. The sparkles that normally danced around him were tempered with disappointment. "Merde! It did not work!" He groaned. "And I was so sure!"

"Germany never gave the signal, ve~!" Italy flailed his legs playfully behind him. "Should I go anyway?"

China bent down, trying to see what they were looking at. "What are you two doing, aru?"

"Chut, China, s'il vous plaît!" France stood up, along with Italy. "Japan is coming back."

From the Axis camp, the flustered island nation came running. His impassive look was betrayed by the tremble throughout his body that could only be explained by a Frenchman or an earthquake. To his credit, Japan was able to navigate the woods beneath his feet without dropping his folded clothes or tripping all over his dress.

Oh, that's a surprise. China gawked openly at him. "Japan! You are wearing a dress, like a maid!"

"China, please, do not speak so loud." France knew that his plan had failed but he asked anyway. "Mon cher, did anything happen, Japan?"

"N-No." Japan suffered from some post-traumatic stress disorder, but other than that he was relieved. The hard part was over, and now his debt was fully repaid. "I am sorry, I failed." Actually, Japan did not know why France had asked that Japan wear the dress in the first place. He had no idea what France was expecting, but obviously, whatever it was, it had gone wrong.

"What is going on, aru!" China shouted quietly.

"We are cheering up Germany! Yay!" Italy held his hands up high. "My job is to wait for Germany to panic, yell, or jump Japan, and then I rush in and-"

"Italy, Italy!" France cut the boyish country off. "Out of context, China would not understand that."

China crossed his arms, silently demanding an explanation from the rather eccentric wine-lover.

France took China by the shoulder. "Vous voyez, I thought that if Japan wore that dress, Germany would have a similar reaction to the one he had this morning! Once Germany, eh, reacted, heh, to Japan, I would send Italy in naked and then all of the Axis powers would have a great time together! Genius, non?"

"Nani!" Japan jerked back and blushed as red as the dot on his flag. France had not mentioned that last bit before! "Et, eto, eto…"

"Like a party!" Italy added happily, attesting to his ignorance.

"Ugh!" China wanted to throw up, just to prove a point. "That is disgusting, aru!"

"Non, mon cher, it is love!" France, as always, did a great job of making himself out to be the protagonist. "But unfortunately, there was not so much as a bulge in Germany's pants! Forgive me, Japan, but I suppose it must be Italy to do it." France sighed dramatically.

Japan face-palmed, hiding the shame written in metaphorical kanji all over his face. He turned away from the group and averted his gaze from everyone, even the occasional bird in the sky.

China narrowed his eyes and stepped away from France. "We should not leave Italy with you, aru."

"How can you say such a thing? I am his only role model for romance! Ah, de toute façon, my plan has failed." France stroked his chin. "I need to form a new one…"

"Oh, oh!" Italy bounced. "Japan's role-playing games sounded fun, let's play those, ve~!"

France contemplated that for a moment, and smirked widely. "Why, yes, Italy, that sounds… Ha, I have the perfect plan! But I will need help from more than just the Axis powers." In a superior tone, he pleaded to China. "Perhaps you could spare some time to help our poor German friend, China?"

China frowned with suspicion, Japan stammered a polite refusal, and Italy clapped his hands with delight.

* * *

"One of you two needs to say something! I am so bored, and you two suck! What did we do during the Teheran Conference?" America fiddled with a hammer. He wasn't really using it, but it was an entertaining item to spin around. "Ha, tare-on conference... That sounds really terroristy. I don't remember it at all."

"You should have paid more attention, then, git!" England, like Russia, was indolently watching America work on his project. They had nothing else to do. "If you must know, we planned out the invasion of occupied French territory in Europe, among less important items. Besides, it was the first time that the three of us met during the war."

Russia added cheerfully, "In famous photograph, our bosses sat like we sit now, except they sat on chairs and we sit on dirt. This is fun, I hope that we can play here forever~!"

"What, you can't really want to stay here!" England retorted. "We all positively reek and I am just getting over two hangovers that were beyond mortal means! This island must be haunted by demons and-"

"Oh say, can you, see!" America shouted randomly. "By the dawn's early light~!"

"Wanker!"

"What so proudly we- ow!" America rubbed his ear where the Englishman smacked it. "Everyone hits me, but no one else here is strong enough for me to hit back! It's so lame."

"That song of yours is deplorable, America. And more importantly, you stole it from me!" England raised his nose at his former charge. "It used to be my drinking song! It's no wonder I want a beer every time I hear it…"

That was when China came running across the field. He was in quite a rush and he passed the other Allies without getting close. Russia smiled to him, which only made China shake and go faster, toward the Allied camp.

Russia hummed. "See you soon, China~"

Italy followed, but he slowed down to chat with the Big Three. "Hi, Russia! Hi, America! Hi, England!"

Japan quickly pushed Italy from behind, forcing him to resume running. "H-Hello, Russia-kun, America-kun, England-kun. Forgive us; we are in a hurry."

"Yo Japan! What's up!" America responded loudly. "That's a sweet-ass dress you've got on there."

"I, eto, I do not normally wear d-dresses. P-Please ignore it."

"Hey, dude, wait! Where're you guys going?"

"If Germany c-comes this way, please stall him." Japan scampered after Italy.

"Ha, okay!" America gave a thumbs-up that Japan did not see.

England finally muttered, "Where are they going, and why is Japan in that dress that France made?"

"Maybe that is what Japan wore during the war." Russia postulated a theory that he knew was incorrect. "Is cute, da?"

"Why wear a dress in combat!"

"Ha, you have no sense of style, England." America smirked adorably and pushed up his glasses. "If it were up to you, we'd all be wearing pants and suspenders!"

England paled, like the calm before a storm. In England's house, pants and suspenders are what America calls underwear and stockings. So it is understandable why England filled to the brim with resentment.

"Huh?" America poked at England obliviously. "What's your problem?"

"Pant's and-! You must be vexing me on purpose, yank! Speak the Queen's English!" England pulled at America's hair. "Say it with me! Trousers and braces! Trousers and braces! Not bloody pants and suspenders!"

"Hey, that hurts! Cut it out!" America swatted at England. "Ow, jackass! Get off of Nantucket!"

Russia smiled and drank his vodka. This was not too different from how they behaved at the real conference of 1944, or any world meeting, for that matter. All the nations did was babble and they never got anything accomplished.

But, then again, Russia was not really thinking about the reenactment anymore, as he lovingly held an imaginary sunflower in his hand.

* * *

After recovering from Japan's questionable behavior, Germany moved on to Italy's tent in search of equipment. Germany already gave up on the prospect of building a boat, but he still had some hope of contacting the outside world.

However, the only noteworthy thing in Italy's tent was the lack of a blanket. France must have used Italy's blanket to make that awful, certainly-not-at-all-effective dress. Germany sighed, looked through everything in the tent, and left empty-handed.

A charming Frenchman greeted him outside. "Bonjour, Germany!"

Germany suddenly grew larger, taller, and darker as he stared down at the weak nation. "France…"

"Oh, p-please, I know you w-would not hurt me!" France nonetheless stepped back a few feet. "… I-I hope."

"Go away, France, unless you have a way off of this island."

"I do not, but I do have something better." France grinned. "I assure you, it is better than all of the kink dresses in the-"

"I knew that was you!" Germany snapped, and then groaned. "Torturing me is one thing, but Japan can be as impressionable as Italy sometimes… Enough with this juvenile behavior, France."

"You are so cruel!" France mockingly placed his hands over his heart, as if it were struck. "You care only for your own discomfort! After all, Italy is having lots of fun-"

"What are you doing with Italy!" His hands clenched tightly.

"Nothing at all, mon cher!" France began retreating slowly. "Well, nothing that he does not want, anyway!"

Germany fumed. How he wanted to throttle the man! "Bastard, what are you up to!"

France laughed and ran away. "Farewell, à plus tard!"

"Scheiße, stay away from Italy and Japan!" Germany thundered after him.

Like Italy, France was accustomed to retreating, and the dense forest was a bonus, but what really helped him escape was that Germany could not bring himself to actually assault the Frenchman. Once or twice, Germany got close enough where he could have grabbed France, but instead he would only grunt and shout, "Stop, verdammt!"

"Non, you will just have to follow me!" France replied. Still, he was glad that this island was so small, and he did not have to sprint very far.

France broke through to the clearing where some Allies were sitting. "Watch out, friends, Germany crossing!" He laughed at them, rolled the keg of beer away on its cart, and continued on.

"What?" England let go of America's hair. "What are you doing, France? Get back here!"

Germany appeared next, cursing under his breath. "France! Stop or I will kick you out of the European Union!"

"Not good enough, love!" France disappeared toward his camp.

"Oh, wait, Nazi!" America rolled up on to his feet and blocked the large German. "Stay here!"

Germany glowered. "I am not participating in your games anymore, America." He noticed that the only people on the field were America, England, and Russia. "Hm. And you do not need me to reenact your conference."

"But we need you to for the rest of the war! Unless, you surrendered already?" America turned from the newly offended Germany to get confirmation. "Did Germany lose yet?"

"Da." Russia answered simply. "He lost as soon as he invaded Soviet Union. He just did not know it yet."

"Um, no." England corrected his not-so-innocent not-so-friend. "… Officially, Germany did not surrender until later."

"So you have to stay!" America beamed, and held one hand out parallel to himself. "Stay right here!"

"Not now. I need to find Italy and Japan." Germany stepped to the side.

America matched his movement. "Nope!"

"Why not? I am the leader of the Axis powers. I should be allowed to retrieve them!"

"Yeah, well, I am leader of the world, so suck on that."

Aggravated even further, Germany gently pushed America out of the way.

America roughly pushed him back. "Nuh uh! You're staying here, buddy!"

Russia finished his bottle of vodka and stood up. "You are not very good at stalling, comrade." Russia smirked darkly. "I should stall him, da?"

"Brill, Russia." England remarked sarcastically at Germany's widening eyes. "We can always count on you."

"Why are you stalling me? What is going on?" Germany thought about kicking America down but that probably would not work anyway. "Is France using you three as well?"

"No way! I don't take orders from no ancient-cheese-eating surrender-monkeys!" America heroically brought his hands to his hips. "Nope! Japan asked us to stall!"

"Japan!" Germany rubbed his forehead. "Verdammt partners…"

America grew fierce. "Hey, don't be dissing Japan! He's awesome!"

"Wanker…" England hung his head low, and whispered to himself. "You never call me that…"

"I stall Germany now, da?" Russia dropped his empty bottle of vodka, brandished a metal water faucet, and raised it to strike.

"Hey, hey! No hitting people with blunt objects to stall them! That's now how you do it in America!" America said, then broke out into laughter. "Ha ha, not how you do it in America… I'm so funny and great. Anyway, at the very most, you would waterboard them, not hit them with inhumane pipes."

Russia was innocently confused. "In America, you do it without faucet?"

"In Soviet Russia, faucet does it without you!" America slapped his knee and laughed his ass off. "Ha ha! Got you there! Man, I am so awesome in every way."

"America, you do notice that Germany is leaving, right?" England rolled his eyes and stood up. "And by the way, in Soviet Russia, they didn't tell foolish jokes about Soviet Russia."

"Niet, comrade! We told many jokes about it." Russia smiled innocently. "For example, I once heard someone tell the funniest joke about communism in Moscow."

America smirked in anticipation. "Oh, what was it?"

Russia answered merrily, "I can't tell you. I gave him ten years for it!"

"W-What? Huh?"

"Ha ha!" England beamed and laughed. "Oh, that's a good one."

America soured and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't get it. What was the joke?"

"How typical, you don't understand." England expressed his feelings of superiority with a scoff. "He just said it, America. It's about the suppression of political freedom in communism. Russia didn't actually give a guy ten years; it's a joke."

"Oh… Okay?" America shrugged. "Whatever. Mine are better."

"And Russia is right, you are terrible at stalling." England raised his chin. "I bet you didn't even see Germany leave!"

"What? Germany didn't leave, he's right…" America spun around several times. "Here…? Aw, man, that sucks! Fine, I'll just bring him back! Uh, what happens next in the war?"

Russia stroked his faucet like a pet Chinese kitten. "We enter Rome, da?"

"All right, awesome! That's what will do!" America shoved the nations forward. "Time to crush the Germans and maybe some Italians if any of them are still Fascist or if he found my hidden supply of pepperoni pizza under my tent!"

* * *

"France! France! Stop this or I will-!" Germany infiltrated the enemy camp, and was dumbfounded by what he saw. "This…"

The camp of the Allies had five tents, circled around a campfire, much like the three tents in the Axis camp. However, one of the tents was enormous and suspended at the corners, and the other four had to be clumped together to make room for it. The mammoth tent was decorated with neon lights and advertisements for drinks in German, English, and two Chinese languages.

The tent had a lighted sign on the front which read, in German, 'Mädchen-Café und Kneipe.'

Sorry to say, that translated to 'Maid Café and Bar.'

"Hm?" Germany was not familiar with the idea of a maid café, but he knew what a bar was, and the tent was certainly about the size of one. If the construction of a pub was all that France had planned, maybe Germany was overreacting. And another beer sounded pretty good right now. But the tent was so massive, and it had electricity! Maybe Germany could find a way to use it and contact other islands?

At any rate, he had to find his fellows and scold them about working with France. For Italy, it would be the second scolding about listening to France today.

Germany pulled aside the opposing flaps on the front of the tent, only to gawk again.

Nothing in all of his years as a punctual politician, experienced businessman, or conditioned soldier could have prepared the miserable German for what was standing right in front of him.

Japan, in his green and white dress, and France, in a new black and white maid costume that failed to reach his knees, both extended their hands to Germany and said together, "Welcome home, Doitsu-sama!"

* * *

Thanks again! Review if you feel like it.


	6. Invasions of the Surrender Monkeys

Hello. I thought I would take advantage of the temporary lull in school work to post this. As always, I'll update when I can.

I sort of explain in this chapter why Germany hates France so much, so pay attention, yeah?

Also, if your name is too-much-romance and you are just now reading this story: What took you so darn long!

Enjoy!

* * *

Spain stepped out of his sleek red SEAT Ibiza and removed his sunglasses. With a bottle of Spanish wine in his hands, he walked down a pathway of stones to knock on the door of a French house.

A strange, unfamiliar man opened the door. "Hello? How can I help you?"

"Huh?" Spain raised an eyebrow. Why was there an American here?

"You must have an engagement with Mr. Bonnefoy." The man continued. "Unfortunately, he has been called to America for urgent business. I will tell him that you came, Mister..?"

"Antonio Fernández Carriedo. A ver, Francis is gone..." Spain sulked a little, but then he cheerfully offered his bottle to the man. "I brought this as a gift for my friend. Could you send it his way for me?"

The American looked scornfully at it. "How insulting." He pushed it away. "Mister, uh, Antonio, are you trying to disrespect Mr. Bonnefoy?"

Spain smiled, trying to hide his bewilderment. "Oh, I am sorry…?"

"It is discourteous to give a Frenchman foreign wine. In any event, I will tell him you came, despite your rude behavior." The man shut the door.

* * *

Winter came early that year as all color drained from Germany's face.

On the inside, he found that the strange tent was decorated to be nice and homey, and was filled with several round tables. A kitchen must have been in the back, which connected to a bar on the right. The hardwood floor reflected the colored lights splashed around by the small fixtures hanging down from the silky ceiling.

On top of that, the tent was littered with home furniture, rugs, and the occasional landscape painting made of warm colors hung on the silky wall.

And then, there were the two male maids, waiting to attend him. France even winked at him.

Germany was speechless. His face contorted in embarrassment, rage, surprise, and mostly fright, and his eyes flickered between the other two nations.

And if Japan had not been too busy dying a little inside from this ignominy, he would have taken a picture of it.

"You seem a little disoriented, Master." France casually took Germany's hand. "Here, I will show you to your -"

"N-N-Nein, un-nmöglich!" Germany snapped his hand away. "Was zur Hölle! I j-just came h-here f-for Italy and J-Japan!"

"And they are here! Your problem is solved." France's too-contented smile was growing by the second. He swayed the skirt of his painfully-short dress as he talked. "Now, if you would follow me, Master."

"Do n-not call me th-that, France!" Germany looked away, and then to Japan, seeking help. But behind his dark, emotionless gaze, the poor otaku was nearly as panicked as the large German, and was in no mood to be of assistance. "You immature countries-!"

"Ah, but that is not how a maid café works." France flipped back his blonde hair. "It is, eh, a bit like a strip club, but much more tasteful."

"This is disgusting!" Germany paled even further. "I am leaving right this-"

"D-Doitsu-s-sama!" Japan said quickly, having worked up the nerve to talk. "P-Please, eto, eto, stay, hai! You, you want to leave Italy-kun here with France-kun?"

Germany stopped, and glared at the Frenchman.

"Oh, how is that so terrible?" France retorted, sarcastically. He wanted Japan to convince Germany, so he did not try very hard. "You make such cruel assumptions."

"Where is he!"

"You mean Italy, mon cher?" France chuckled. "He is in the kitchen, and he has been working on a wonderful treat for you, Master."

"Stop that!" Germany shouted and glanced away again, but then he considered France's words. "... What would that be, exactly?"

"We will serve it for you, if you wish." France smirked. "You'll have to stay to see it."

Japan nervously looked down.

With the greatest calmness that he could muster, Germany mulled over his options. What was Italy up to? Germany thought about the sweet little nation dancing around the kitchen, throwing all sorts of exotic ingredients into a pan in hopes of making a delectable present for his so-called 'best friend forever,' while singing a lovely song he wrote about pasta, or, God forbid, another friendship one about Ger-

France pulled out a nearby chair for him. "Please, sit down, Master."

Abruptly aware and ashamed of his modest fantasy, Germany grunted awkwardly. "Fine, fine, ja. I will get this over with. But make this quick, or I will go back there and get him myself." He sat rigidly upright, keeping a tense vigil on France.

"Oh, you won't have to wait long, Master."

"H-Here, Doitsu-sama." Japan wordlessly offered his master a frosty beer in a clear plastic mug, holding it out for Germany as if he had asked for it. "I th-think it w-would be best, eto, if you had this."

Germany anxiously took it and quickly emptied the drink.

"Order up!" China came from the kitchen with a very large platter on a cart. The platter was covered by a silvery dome that hid its contents. China was wearing a long red dress and had applied feminine makeup to his face.

Germany frowned, depressed by his own continued embarrassment. "You are also conspiring with France, China?"

China only smiled like a welcoming employee. But when China drew the platter closer, Japan started backing away. "Eto, I, I, eto, I, eto…" Japan failed to mutter a good excuse, yet he managed to make the point of standing very far away from his former leader.

"Hm." That made Germany suspicious of the covered platter. Was Japan a vegetarian? Or did France have something particularly sinister planned?

China left the cart by Germany. "All for you, Master, aru!"

Germany groaned at the word Master. But then he eyed the gleaming platter curiously again. Why was it so big? There could be a whole pig under that thing.

China stepped back and whispered, "France, this is absolutely inhumane, aru."

"Of course." France also removed himself from Germany's presence to chat with China. "And since when are you known for a high value in human rights?" France whispered sharply in reply. "Now chut, China, let us watch. I am about to win."

Germany stared at the platter for a while. With the stern voice and expression of a German police officer, he asked loudly, "This is just food, yes, France?"

"Absolutely!" France outright lied. He was too close to victory now to risk it with an answer resembling honesty. "You had best eat it before it gets cold."

Germany continued to resist the urge to beat the lecherous Ally into one of the colored lamps, but his patience was reaching its end. He reached for the platter.

France stifled a chortle. China rolled his eyes, and Japan melted even further into the shadows.

Germany's gaze twitched to them. "There is nothing but food here, France?"

"Truly, mon cher, there is nothing but pasta. And tomatoes! It's all tomatoes, I swear!"

Even though France was clearly lying, there was nothing the German could do about it without proof.

Germany boldly removed the lid from the platter, and immediately all of the color that he had lost when he first entered the pub returned to him tenfold.

His heart skipped a beat.

Italy winked back at him. He was lying down with his stomach on the platter, his legs curled back, and his chin raised. His hands were bent backwards, hiding in his shirt for some reason.

At least he was still wearing the green suit that Germany gave him. No, never mind, that didn't help at all.

"Hi, Master Germany~!" Italy let down his legs. "Welcome home, ve~!"

Germany was at a loss for words as his heart began to pound rapidly against his chest.

France was so happy with the German's humiliation that he grinned from ear to ear and wrapped an arm around his Ally. But China only shook his head sourly. Japan was brave enough to watch surreptitiously from his dark corner.

"I-Italia!" Germany finally shouted and fell back in his seat, crashing against the floor. "Italy, what are you-!"

"I've been a bad servant, ve…" Italy crawled to the edge of the table, pretending to sulk, and crept down right onto poor Germany's lap. "I was too busy dreaming about pasta to do my work, so the other servants caught me and…"

"Italy, why are-! What are you-!" Germany was glowing red and his hands were slick with sweat. "And w-what are you hiding in your hands! I d-demand that you r-reveal-"

The innocent little nation grinned. "I've been a bad boy." He pulled his hands out of his shirt and over his head.

Germany recoiled like a shotgun.

Italy's hands were handcuffed together. Italy drew even closer and murmured with a playful smile, "I need to be punished, Master Germany."

France bit his lip to suppress his mirth, waiting for the happy ending that he had worked so hard to achieve. China wondered why he had helped France in the first place.

Germany's head was swimming, let loose by strange, ambivalent feelings of excitement. This had gone too far, he had to get control over himself! But how could he? The Italian was all over him!

France was so close to victory this time. But there was one nation he had not counted on to show up.

"Hey, you guys!" At that moment, America burst threw the tent. "The Big Three have arrived and- huh?"

America saw Italy on top of Germany. The large nation's voice bitterly reminded the proud German soldier of the presence of the other nations around him. Rattled with shame now and in a desperate haste, he shoved Italy off, stood up, and tried to look dignified.

America blinked a couple of times, and then glowed with delight. "Ha ha ha! You guys are so gay!" America pointed at them with a mocking grin and looked back outside. "Hey England! I was totally right! Italy tops!"

* * *

Feeling lonely after his indirect rejection by France, Spain decided to pay a visit to another close friend. Now he stood in front of a German house, holding a German bottle of wine, waiting for someone to answer the door while he whistled idly. He was careful not to pick a foreign brand of liquor this time.

The door flung open, and an agitated Prussia appeared. His white hair was disheveled and his bloodshot eyes were redder than normal.

Spain greeted, "Hola Prusia, ¿cómo estás?"

"Awesome as ever! Ha ha." Prussia grinned like crazy, but then he looked at the bottle and sneered. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Oh, this?" Wondering why Prussia had chosen to speak English, Spain nonetheless was happy to give him the bottle. "German wine, my gift to you."

Prussia narrowed his eyes. "You got me domestic wine? I didn't know you were such an asshole."

Spain's cheerful smile faltered. "E-Excuse me?"

"Don't you get it? You can't just give Germans wine from a German vineyard!" Prussia stared at the heinous gift. "You give foreign wine, idiot. Otherwise, you're just saying that my wine isn't good enough."

"…Oh …" Spain laughed, as a way to vent his frustration. "I apologize…"

Prussia turned away and left inside, back to the laptop that he had left on his couch.

Spain sighed, left the wine at the door, and followed his friend. He quickly forgot about the wine and put on his happy face again. "So, Prussia, how are-"

"West has disappeared!" Prussia replied. "It's so awesome!"

"Oh?" Spain stopped.

"Yeah! He just up and walked out of here a couple of days ago or something, and he hasn't come back!" Prussia laughed manically. "I have no idea where he is! My little brother might be in trouble, but I can't do anything about it! It's so awesome!"

"I see. That is…"

"In fact, it's so fucking awesome, I haven't even gone to sleep since he left!" Prussia spun sharply back to Spain, who stepped back a little. "It feels so great, being all alone in this big house! How can I waste time sleeping when life is so fantastic and the awesome me doesn't even know what happened to West!" Prussia's eyes grew large and threw his hands up in the air.

"Ah…" Spain chuckled nervously again. "A ver, have you tried looking for him?"

"I looked everywhere, and all I could find out is that he isn't at home! West left me after he got some email from that lazy America so I've been calling and emailing a bunch of Americans!" Prussia made a point of this by shoving Germany's computer in Spain's face and showing him the collection of hundreds of electronic letters. "But no matter what I do, I can't get a hold of that douchebag, and no one knows where West is! I even tried Japan and Italy, but they're gone, too!" Prussia was beside himself with laughter. "Ha ha! I love this awful feeling in my gut, the pressure in my chest! I'm so damn lonely and it's so fucking awesome!"

Spain blinked. "Did you say that Italy is missing?"

"Yeah, I checked a hundred times. I mean the Italy that West likes, not that Italy that you like, Schwule!" Prussia presented to his friend a cell phone that had made several calls to one Feliciano Vargas, but none were answered.

"Did you ask Romano?" Spain asked, but he knew this question was irrelevant, anyway. He was with Romano much of yesterday, and there had been no mention of any of this. Then the Spaniard remembered, "He said that Veneziano went to see England."

"England's disappeared, too, you know!"

"What? How can that be?" Spain began to worry for Italy, and felt the urge to call Romano and see whether or not the petulant little nation had gone missing in the last ten hours. "Come to think of it, France was not at home, either."

"Do you know where West could be?" Every time that Prussia blinked, his drowsy eyes closed for more than two seconds. He did not blink very often. "It's hilarious, isn't it? The awesome me can't even take care of his own!"

"Calm down, Prussia." The Spaniard comforted his fellow country with a pat on the shoulder. "We will figure everything out. You said Germany left to see America?"

"I don't know, maybe!"

"Then we will go to America." Spain beamed, and his jovial demeanor was beginning to have an impact on Prussia. "I had better call Romano and tell him that I will be gone for the next few days. I hope that he has not noticed that Veneziano has gone missing?"

* * *

"Blast all, America, running off like that!" England muttered to Russia, though mostly to himself, as they approached the suspicious tent structure. "What makes him so impatient? He might have us trapped here for years, yet he runs around." England stopped in front of the tent. "What is all this, anyway? It seems like something China would have made. It definitely looks like his quality…"

Russia gently put a hand on England's shoulder. "You insult comrade China?"

England jolted and slinked away from Russia. "N-N-No, of course not! I was just thinking how, how nice this piece of crap looks..."

Just then, America peeped out of the tent and shouted, "Hey England! I was totally right! Italy tops!"

Not given the context, the British gentleman did not understand what that meant.

An unseen force drew the American back in, and there was an uncanny silence.

"Hmm? Maybe Germany is not as dominant as I thought?" Russia wondered aloud, though the meaning of the sentiment was lost on England.

The opening to the tent flew open, and an angry German stormed out of the establishment, dragging China and Japan along the ground.

"Oh, Germany? What a surprise." England began sarcastically. "What are you-"

Germany glared at him.

England grew quiet.

Germany's face was contorted into the most frustrated expression that England could ever remember seeing. His sharp and narrow eyes were weighed down by a deeply furrowed brow, and his hands were clenched bitterly around the scruffs of the two dresses.

Germany dropped the two Orientals and reentered the tent. Next he pushed America back outside, though the young nation did not go easily. Finally, Germany quickly escorted Italy out, though he kept his gaze away from the boyish nation's wrists.

"Hey, hey, wait!" America stopped him. "We're invading Rome now, so that means we have to play for Italy!"

Germany was at his wit's end. He shoved Italy into America and shouted impulsively, "Just take him!"

"What?" England, America, China, and Japan uttered in amazement.

Russia smiled in nostalgia. "Just like old times~"

"No one come inside!" Germany growled in absolute irritation. "I must speak to France alone! Miserable bastards!" He went back inside and sealed the tent shut.

After a brief silence, Russia noted happily, "China is a girl, da?"

"Uh, I didn't think so." America scratched his head. "I guess it might explain things, though."

"Why...?" China did not understand what they were talking about until he chanced to roll his eyes down, when he realized he was still in the red dress. His eyes grew wide. "No, aru! France told me to wear this! Oh no, why did I put on this dress!"

Russia came closer and ran his fingers through China's hair. "I think you are a girl, you take such good care of your hair~"

China quickly pulled away and held up a frying pan in front of himself. "S-stay back, a-aru!"

England waved them off. "Of course he isn't a girl, don't be daft. Anyway, it would not be the first time that China wore ridiculously feminine clothing." England snidely remarked, though he was still unnerved. What had France done to make the former Axis leader so angry?

Italy bounced up and down. "Ve? Where did Master Germany go? Germany! Wah, he left me all alone!" Italy shook his head furiously. "Germany and big brother France left me!"

"Oh, how interesting." Russia came closer to Italy. "Little Italy is tied up like men in Gulag, da?" He poked the handcuffs.

Italy tilted his head. "Ve~?"

"Oh, yeah, we have Italy now! Okay!" America grabbed Italy and shook him a little. "We got Rome now! Ha ha! Yeah, those Fascist Nazis couldn't handle the might of the Allies, specifically me!"

"America," England interrupted him. "What is going on in there? Why is Italy bound? What has Germany so upset? And why is there a huge tent here out of nowhere!"

"Who cares! It's hilarious. And we got Italy! The Allies win, fuck yeah! I kick so much ass." America grinned victoriously. It took only a couple of seconds for him to get bored and let go of Italy. "All right, what comes next?"

Italy moved to walk back into the tent, but Japan, worried that Germany might resent the two even further, kept him away from it. "N-Not now, Italy-kun."

England pressed America. "But what about Germany and France? Shouldn't we stop them from annexing each other?"

"I invade Romania now." Russia advised merrily. "So Romania switches sides and invades Hungary."

"Na." America shrugged. "Anything good?"

"Wars are not good, you idiot! Are you ignoring me? Bloody sod..." England crossed his arms. "Fine, if you must know, Operation Overlord happened after that."

"Huh?" America scrunched up his face. "What was that?"

"Operation Overlord."

"What?"

"The invasion of Normandy."

America blinked.

England scowled. "D-Day!"

"Oh! Yeah! That! So, I guess that means Normandy is in France, right? Awesome!" America thrust his fist up. "The Allies are invading France! We, the good guys, are taking our surrender monkey back from the evil Nazis!"

"You must be joking." England humphed. "Germany looked like he was ready to blow! And who knows what he is doing to France as we speak? You can do it yourself." England took Italy to the side to try and take off the cuffs.

America laughed. "Oh well, it's hero time!"

"W-Wait, America-kun!" Japan stood in front of America. "I-I believe, eto, Ger-Germany-kun said not to enter."

"You don't have to defend him, Japan! I'll go in and kick his ass!"

"America-kun, do not…" Japan thought quickly for some excuse. "I, I have something to give you!"

"Huh?"

"H-Hai!" Japan anxiously produced the wooden box that France had given him as unwanted payment. "Et, eto, this is for you. Nowpleasedonotgoinside."

America looked at him quizzically. "What was that? Some kind of a Japanese greeting?"

Japan held back a sigh. "H-H-Hai." He held out the box.

America grabbed it rather ruthlessly and grinned widely. "This is awesome! Thanks, Japan! You're the best!" Without so much as opening the box, he stashed it into his bomber jacket and gave Japan a friendly hug around the shoulders. Japan blushed all over at the close contact, especially while wearing Italy's dress.

Why did Japan's sacrifices for his leader always involve America?

* * *

Germany could not talk to France yet. First, the furious German had to vent his rage and violently bash his chair against the table, break one of the standing lamps against the bar counter, and flip over nearly every piece of furniture in the tent.

France was scared out of his mind. What was Germany going to do now? Had France's scheme worked too well? Could it be that Germany was reenacting the war a little too accurately? Poor persecuted France! All he wanted to do was to get his geographical neighbor to have some fun. Why is it that Germans and fun never mix?

The angry Germany finally grabbed France by the collar of his maid dress. "France..."

"I'm sorry! Forgive me! I'm just a weak, defenseless, impecable well-dressed Frenchman!" France pleaded with fingers folded. "I really thought you would like it! Please don't hurt me!"

Germany's blue eyes twitched in irritation.

"Please have mercy! I promise I will never do it again!" France did not mean it at all, but he would say anything to avoid the German's wrath. "I, I will stop rioting from work, I will give you control over the next United Nations conference, I will forgive you for winning Eurovision-!"

"You are perverted and sick, France! Desist this immaturity at once and stop interfering in my," Germany chose his words carefully, "Politics."

France dared, "You mean, your love life, mon cher?"

It was as if Germany had touched something hot, because he jumped a little and looked furious.

Startled, France paled, and pretended to laugh. "Eh, ha ha, admit it, Germany, you are hopeless without me!" He freed himself from the German's hands and risked throwing a playful arm around the neck of his adversary. "I have already given you a hundred years to make up your mind. It is only fair, non?"

Germany stared hard at France, suppressing the impulse to remind the boastful Frenchman that France had been going after England for over a thousand years now. Instead, Germany pushed him back. "Absolutely not."

"Why must you be so difficult, mon cher?"

"Do not play dumb with me! You of all countries should know why!"

France hesitated. "Hm?"

"... Nothing. I, I expect you to be more well behaved in the future!"

"Oh, are you hiding something, love? You can tell me!" France drew closer, making Germany wince in disgust. "I am good at keeping secrets. Tell me, what is bothering you?"

"I am a grown nation! Do not treat me like some child!"

"Oh, I would not dream of doing that!" France held a hand to his chest, as though he were offended. "I know you are not a child, even though you are only two hundred years old, ha ha..."

Germany's voice was piercing. "You are lying to me."

"Huh?" France scratched his hair and grinned weakly. "W-What do you mean?"

"I know the truth, France. I am not two hundred years old."

France was crushed by a torrent of surprise, and he stepped back. "Q-Quoi?"

Impetuously, Germany grabbed France by the collar again. "You listen to me, Franzose!"

"B-But I-!"

"Let us go over the facts, du hurensohn!" He caught France's dancing eyes with his own. "In 1806, a crumbling empire officially dissolved and became part of the French Empire," he spoke those words with hateful emphasis, "under a new name, the Rheinbund."

"W-Wait, Germany-!"

"It is my turn to talk!" Germany shook France until the boozehound was dizzy. "In 1813, after the French Empire was defeated, the Rheinbund took a new form, which was raised by Prussia." He pushed France back.

"H-How did you remember all of this!" France cried out. "You were supposed to forget!"

"I went to a library, arschloch!"

France froze. Obviously! They were countries! Germany must have researched this a long time ago! But why? Was the German soldier just studying military history and he stumbled upon these rather arbitrary facts? That seemed unlikely.

Oh. It was something about Italy, wasn't it?

France understood now. He had ruined Italy's childhood sweetheart. So Italy was still waiting for him, wasn't he? Then Germany could never win the Italian's heart, and that was why France could never win. For a second he thought about it as spot on the floor of Germany's kitchen that neither France nor Germany could wipe away.

It was ironic that way. France was trying so hard to get Germany and Italy together, and yet it was all France's fault that their happiness could never be, because he had made Germany forget about the Italian in the first place. Was this why Germany hated him all of the time?

"N-non!" France sputtered. "I did not do anything wrong! And I did not hurt anyone! J-just the sight of blood makes me squeemish! I promise, it was not my fault! I loved that little Empire…" He sighed and smiled sadly. "Oh, you were so cute back then~"

Love? Cute? In a horrible dread, Germany's face turned blue. "Did you-?"

"Eh? Oh, non! Non! Non!" France frantically waved his hands. "Not like that! You were not that cute! Non, you see, when I annexed you into my house-"

"Let me make myself clear!" Germany pulled France closer again, and his voice sharpened into a menacing whisper. "You will cease using me like a toy, you are not to breathe a word of this to anyone, and if you so much as lay a hand on Italy again I will see to it that you go the way of your Napoleon and never get off of this rock, do you understand!"

France could only nod sheepishly.

* * *

"Why are they taking so long in there!" America whimpered. "We have to do Operation Overlord! What would France and Doucheland be doing in there, anyway? If France dies, I'm down one player!"

"Idiot! I would like to reaffirm now that your intelligence does not come from me." England remarked. "Also, Operation Overlord was indeed the invasion of France from the north, but aren't you forgetting Operation Dragoon?"

"What? Operation Dragoon? Was that really a thing?"

"It was the invasion of France from the south."

"Ha ha, no way! You're making that up, just like those troll things or that flying bunny that doesn't exist!"

"Wanker!" England scowled and slapped the back of America's head.

"Ow, what was that for!"

"You are an idiot. Full stop."

"I don't- wait, what?"America was completely baffled. He looked down at his feet, checking to make sure that he was not walking. "Uh, stop doing what?"

"Hm?" Then England was confused, too. "What are you talking about?"

"You told me to fully stop, right?"

"Are you daft? I said, full stop. As in, the punctuation mark that goes at the end of a sentence."

"You mean the period?"

"The thing that women get every month?"

"No, the thing that ends a sentence!"

"Yes, the full stop."

"No, it's the period!"

"It is not called the period, America! It is the full stop! Period makes no sense."

"We can only have one, so period it is!" America grinned, and England made a wry face. "Oh, come on, Iggy, you're on my team!"

"On your team? That would be, in your team."

"Huh? How would you be in my team? Like, in a line or something?"

"How the bloody hell can you be in a line!"

"You know, like, in a store, in front of the register?"

"It's not a bloody store, America, it's a shop! A shop!"

"Not really. It's a store."

"Wanker! Why is it a store? I go shopping, so do you go storing?" England wagged his finger. "And it is not a line that you stand in! It is a queue! You queue in front of the till!"

America shrugged. "I think I know how to speak my own language, dude. Learn how to speak English."

"Miserable yank! English is mine! My name is England!"

Russia, China, Japan, and Italy watched the two bicker on and on curiously until France finally opened up the tent.

Still in a tizzy, England turned away from America to greet France, and then slapped his own bushy-eyebrow face. "France, what the bloody hell are you wearing a maid's dress for!"

France smiled weakly back in reply. "Oh… No reason."

England lowered his hand and narrowed his eyes. France was slouching his shoulders and the leery smirk he normally wore seemed defeated and fatalistic. The man looked fearful and shaken. England found it disconcerting, and he did not like it.

Not that he cared about France, not at all!

"Okay, guys, we're reenacting the invasion of Normandy!" America hollered. He pushed past France without so much as a glance and made a dramatic show of leading everyone inside. "It's a drinking game, as decided by a democracy! Me, that is! The winner gets France, so, try to lose, ha. I'm going to win, though, because I'm the hero!"

When all of the others nations came inside, the first thing they saw was Germany, standing rigidly right behind France. Germany had a heavy hand on France's shoulder, and then everyone understood why France looked so miserable.

Italy entered last. He waved merrily to Germany and France, which he was able to do now that England had released his hands.

Germany pushed France a little. "France! Is there not something you want to say!"

"Oui, oui!" France shook violently, and pleaded to Italy. "Please forgive me, sweet, forgiving Italy! You will forgive me, won't you?" Germany's hand on his shoulder grew more heavy, and France shook his head furiously. "I am sorry! I am sorry! I, uh, uh, I, uh-"

Germany supplied sternly, "Used you for my own sick games!"

"Oui, that is right, used you for my own sick games!" France nearly cried. "It was wrong of me and you should never listen to what this poor Frenchman says! I promise I will be a better older brother in the future!"

"Ve?"

"Good enough!" Germany let go of France.

France laughed feebly. "Ah, yes, we are friends again, now?"

Germany frowned fiercely, his eyes sharpened to focus on the Frenchman.

"A-Ah!" France ran away and hid behind America, who did not even notice. "Please, do not hurt me?"

Germany held his index finger out and shouted, "Italy! Japan! File rank!"

Italy jumped. "Ciao~!" Italy saluted with the wrong hand, which was funny, because he was the one who began the practice of saluting with the right hand outstretched among the Axis powers.

Japan quickly and nervously took his place beside Italy. "Hai."

Germany glanced down at Japan's dress but made himself ignore it. "Italy, I will forgive your idiocy this time, but do not repeat this mistake! How many times must I tell you to never trust France!"

Italy blinked. "Ve?"

"Your behavior was absolutely unacceptable! Do you remember what I told you before Operation Barbarossa! Anyone who wants to put you in chains is, erm, anyone who wants to…" Germany hesitated. "Anyone who locks you in a cage is an enemy!"

"Yessir!" The joyful tone with which Italy answered implied that he understood nothing.

Despite his sour spirits and fear for his national security, France smirked a little at Germany from behind America. The poor German was dancing around words to avoid listing himself as an enemy.

What! Operation Barbarossa! France stopped.

Earlier, Germany had said that Barbarossa was one of his old leaders. But now that France was paying more attention, he remembered clearly that Barbarossa was, in fact, a Holy Roman Emperor.

Did Italy notice that?

"And you, Japan!" Germany barked at his other partner. "I expect this lack of judgement from Italy, but not from you."

Japan bowed his head. "H-Hai. I will invest more time into contemplating Bushido."

"… Very well." Germany nodded and said nothing else. He watched Italy for a few seconds but then looked to America with crossed arms. He did not bother chastising China, who was having a hard enough time staying away from Russia.

"Time to start! Everyone sit at the bar!" America demonstrated by sitting down first, going out of his way to pull Japan to sit by him. "You can be with me, Japan. I'll show you how this game works!"

Japan, baffled by the ridiculous excuse, grew pink and mumbled incoherently. It certainly was strange that America would want to sit near an Axis power.

England also sat by America, and beckoned to France. "Come on, France, it is not like we have a choice here."

"Ah, n-no thank you, mon cher." France took shelter behind the bar. "I will s-serve the drink. After alI, I cannot win myself, non?" He ducked under the counter.

"Uh, right." England muttered without certainty.

Russia decided to sit by England.

China sat by Japan.

Russia got back up and moved to sit by China, smiling all the while. "You sit with me, comrade."

"N-No." China held himself down to keep himself from shaking. "Please go back."

"How cute, you act like woman playing the act of hard to get." Russia happily pat China on the back.

More cold shivers went up China's spine. He pushed Russia's hand off and moved to stand up. "No, aru! Don't you un-understand that I hate you, aru!"

Russia rolled his head. "Oh, I see. Comrade China does not like the touching, da?" He pulled back his hand voluntarily and politely folded both hands on his lap. "Then I will be good boy for China."

"R-Really?" China was shocked. "Aru?"

"Da."

"But..." China pouted in disbelief. Was Russia really going to leave him alone, then? China slowly fell back to the bar stool, not dropping his suspicion for an instant.

"Yay! Let's play, Germany~!" Italy pulled Germany by the hand to sit by England.

Germany muttered, "You really are an idiot, Italy..."

"Yeah, let's do this!" America shouted blazenly. "England, truth or dare!"

"Wanker! We are playing a drinking game, not truth or dare!" England sneered. "You forgot to give us the rules."

"Drinking game? Uh, yeah, okay. How about, you have to take a drink every time England says his food isn't disgusting."

"That is unacceptable! And my food is not disgusting! It must be your own poor tastes. I am sure that you cannot stomach anything that is not greased enough to run a car." England laughed a little at his own joke. "Hurry up with that beer, France."

"Y-Yes, yes, of c-course." France poured out drinks for the other seven countries. All were beers, because no other refreshment was available, and it made France feel a little uncomfortable since beer was more expensive. He set a glass before each nation, starting with Germany. "H-Here you go, my f-friend! I am sure that we can move past this-"

"You a treading a very thin line, France."

France's face melted in fear and he quickly moved on.

"Oh, I got a great idea. Ha, what am I saying, all of my ideas are great." America looked down the row of people, counting up numbers in his head. "Yeah, this will work. The rule is that every time an Ally drinks, an Axis power has to drink."

"What are we drinking?" Italy asked. "Wine~!"

"Idiot! Have you been paying any attention at all!" Germany broke out violently. "There is beer right in front of you! You are absolutely useless!"

Italy pouted. "I'm sorry, scary Master Germany~"

"I-Italy-kun, we are not doing that, eto, anymore!" Japan whispered anxiously. "Please do not call him Master-"

"Come on, Japan! Drink with me!" America raised his glass to Japan.

Japan looked down at the beer. "Et, eto, eto..."

"Here, I'll show you how it goes!" America drank a few gulps. "Ah! Your turn!"

"I, eto, I do not-"

"What? You don't know how? Don't worry about that!" The strong country thrust his own mug at Japan and poured the booze down the other's throat. "All good, right?"

Caught by surprise and completely disoriented, Japan nearly sputtered and spit out the drink. But he had to polite, so he also gulped it down. "Et, eto, America-kun..."

"See? It's easy. All right! You go now, England!"

"We're just drinking alcohol? That's not much of a game. I've already done that twice on this island." England raised his mug. "Who else wants to go at it?"

"Ve~!" Italy picked up his beer. "Wine is better, but this is okay."

England and Italy both took a drink. It only made England feel even worse, but it made Italy a little hyperactive. "Ve, ve, ve! Your turn now, Germany!"

"Ja." Germany grabbed his beer.

"We drink, da?" Russia didn't even bother with the ale. He took out some vodka instead, and proceeded to consume the entire bottle without a pause.

Germany reciprocated and downed his entire beer.

There was a dark glint in Russia's smile. He prepared another bottle. "Again, da?"

"Ja, more!" Germany shoved his drink at France, who eagerly complied and refilled the drink. Germany and Russia stared each other down while they drank their alcohol all the way to the bottom.

Russia happily conjured yet another vodka. "Are you full yet, comrade?"

"Nein!" Germany snatched another glass and right away began drinking it. France hastily prepared several beers for him on the counter.

England muttered, "This certainly resembles the Battle of Stalingrad more than the invasion of France."

"Go, Allies!" America cheered. "Go Russia, drink that vodka! Wait, that doesn't sound right. Let me try again." He inhaled deeply and shouted, "Go Germany, kick that commie's ass! Eh, that's, weird too. I'll just watch. Ha ha, you guys suck!"

China shook his head. "But they could go at this forever, aru..."

Germany and Russia finished their third, and then their fourth drinks. And still they reached for more, determined by some unseen eternal grudge.

Japan watched with concern. "Germany-kun, I think it is my turn now."

"Yes, Russia, give the rest of us a chance to drink." England was growing impatient for more beer.

But neither of the stubborn countries slowed down. They plowed through the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eventually America lost count. After an obscene number of drinks, finally, Germany was slowing down.

France hesitantly offered him the final glass of beer. "E-Excuse me, mon cher, but there is not much beer left in the keg, you know? Maybe it would be b-best if you stopped now-"

Germany wiped some foam off of his lips and scowled. He raised his empty mug and threw it at France, but he must have been too inebriated to see straight because it flew past France's ear and shattered harshly against a shelf.

France flinched back and froze.

Germany took only a small swig from the new glass of beer before he had to put it down. He shifted in his seat. "Verdammt..."

Russia quickly noted, "You pass out now, da?"

"Nein, no, not that..." Germany moved forward in his seat, and hitched up his leg a little.

"Oh~! Germany has to pee!" Italy beamed and held his hands up as if riding a rollar coaster, much to Germany's chagrin. "Let's all go pee and sleep a siesta~!"

"Ha ha! That means the Soviets win, which means I win! Go Allies, ha ha! Oh, wait..." America looked up, as if deeply in thought. "Yeah, I got to piss, too."

"Please, don't be so vulgar!" England scoffed. "Go spend a penny, then, but have the decency to do it outside."

America stood up and looked around. "Why? We can go in this stupid tent, right?"

"How disrespectful, aru!" China pouted. "I did very well, considering the lack of materials, aru!"

"Ha, come on!" America laughed and threw an arm around the upset China. "Everyone can see this place sucks ass!"

Russia stood up ominously, and drew closer behind America. "Izvinite."

America looked back at him. "Huh?"

"China does not like the touching, comrade." Russia drew out a faucet pipe. "You step away, da?"

The strong country merely glanced quizzically at the pipe, but England always turned sour at Russia's presence. At the sight of the weapon England grew exceptionally paranoid. "Put that thing away, R-Russia! L-L-Leave China alone, America!" England swatted at him.

"Hm? Hey, what's the deal?" America backed off in confusion. "Do I smell funny?" He sniffed his jacket. "Can't possibly be that, I smell like cheeseburgers! Hah, you people are weird." America laughed and left the tent. "Be right back, Japan!"

"Ve~!" Italy rose, and started taking off his shirt.

"This is not a siesta, Italy! Why must you be such an idiot?" Germany made him keep it on, and tersely led the oblivious nation outside.

"Eto, America-kun is very, eto..." Japan rubbed his neck anxiously. "I hope there is not some detail about Western culture that I have missed..."

"All better now, comrade?" Russia smiled to China.

"W-Well..." China stuttered. "I... I, I have to go as well!" He quickly pushed himself off his seat, side-stepped around Russia and darted out the tent.

Japan shyly averted his own eyes from Russia's strangely cheery gaze. The Asian country held his cup of beer to his face, but only to hide himself, not to drink.

Bored after waiting for only a few seconds, England coughed uncomfortably in the room of socially incompetent conversationalists. "So, um, France..."

"Oh, I have failed, mon cher!" France cried out and slumped against the bar table. "I give up! This is too hard!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"I cannot even get Germany and sweet little Italy together!" France sulked lugubriously. "In fact, I think it is all my fault..."

Japan lowered his mug in attention.

"Humph." England replied self-righteously. "Blimey, you never have any follow-through on anything! Of course, this is a ridiculous matter, anyway."

"Surely you would want to see the world filled with love! But I must be cursed..." France buried his head pitifully in his arms. He muttered, "Oh, I cannot even win over my own love, how am I supposed to help those poor two? I need help..."

Japan looked down, fiddled with his fingers, and asked quietly, "Et-to, France-kun?"

"Eh, quoi?" France glanced up hopefully.

"M-May I please remove this dress now?"

"Oh..." The Frenchman collapsed back into the bar table. "... Yes... There is no point to it now, is there?"

"Ugh! Man alive, chin up, man!" England slammed a fist next to France's head, making the man jolt back up. "You look absolutely pathetic. What is with all this nonsense, anyway? What happened?"

"I, I cannot tell you..." France smiled sadly. Japan took this opportunity to leave to the kitchen and change back into his uniform.

England scratched his head. "You know, you are so fickle, you will probably forget about this in an hour, and you'll be back to grabbing my arse, like normal."

"That is a lie! I will be haunted by this forever!" France was very determined to remain miserable. "I am a tragic country..."

Russia sat down and took out a fresh bottle of vodka, but unlike the others, he took his time drinking this one. "What is the problem, comrades?"

England shot him a dirty look. "Wanker."

"I, I am not so sure that you would be able to help me, Russia." France put a hand to his forehead. "I cannot even help my fellow countries! I should just surrender to fate..."

England rolled his eyes. "Like you always do?"

"Niet, comrade, there is no surrender." Russia darkened cryptically. "Death before surrender, da?"

"N-Non, mon cher..."

Japan returned in his white costume. now that he could breathe easier, he decided that he still needed to help his fellow Axis powers, too. Well, he had already tried to help them by wearing a dress, but clearly a more sophisticated and less humiliating plan was required. "Ano, F-France-kun. I, eto, I have a suggestion."

France flipped back his hair idly, and replied with a depressed tone. "What is that?"

Repairing his calm and collected facade, Japan stood up straight and spoke tersely. "After careful observation I have found that, eto, that Germany-kun will never in any state of consciousness concede to your demands."

"Eh, thanks for the advice..."

"D-Demo, Italy-kun m-might!"

"Italy?" France propped up his head on his elbow.

"Hai." Japan nodded. He still did not know why France was still wearing the maid costume, but it was very troubling. Wouldn't that make Germany even angrier?

"Italy is such a nice person, you agree?" Russia thought about the music box that he had received and then given away. "It is sad to see him with Germany. He should become one with Russia, da~?"

"W-What?" England moved one seat away. "But, I thought you liked Ch-China?"

"... Hm?" For once, Russia seemed a little disgusted. "Da... I talk about geography, comrade... Westerners have strange minds, da?"

England was startled. "Oh. M-My apologies, I guess I spend too much time around France."

"Eto, eto, h-hai..." Japan made the effort to continue. "It would be best if, if, eto, if you convinced Italy-kun instead of Germany-kun, France-kun. Convince Italy-kun that he, eto, that he, that he has, eto, eto, f-feelings for Germany-kun. I w-would be willing to help-"

"Don't waste your time." England shook his head. "Really, stop acting like children. I don't know what happened here while I was gone, but obviously it was a bad idea. Let those two take care of their own problems. And if not, they'll be no worse off than the rest of us, anyway."

"Yes! That is it!" France vigorously woke up from his depressing stupor. "I know exactly what to do! Oh, mon Dieu, mon Dieu, I have the answer! Dear England, you have solved my problem!"

"Oh! Well! Solving your problems is nothing new for me." England remarked sarcastically, thought it hardly hid his super-inflated ego. "... How exactly did I help?"

Japan sighed. At least Germany wouldn't be obsessed with the reenactment of the war anymore...

France laughed, thoroughly delighted by his new absolutely perfect plan. Out of relief and excitement, he bent over the bar table and gave England a quick kiss on the lips. "Merci, mon cher!"

England blushed and gawked at the Frenchman. "What the b-bloody hell was-!"

"Not now, England! I have a wonderful scheme to plan!" France turned to Russia. "Eh, excuse me, but could you d-do me a favor?"

"A favor?" Russia blinked. "I don't think anyone has asked me for anything like that before~"

"Oh, heh, then, it's not a favor!" Fearful of associating Russia to anything new, France waved his hands to dispel the request. "Uh, then, you see, I need you to-"

China burst into the tent. "Why are you all still inside, aru? Come outside, quickly! A large boat just docked on the island, aru!"

* * *

Gasps~!

Thanks for reading. Reviews make me write faster! XD


	7. Fort Roughs and the French Resistance

I wanted to put this up sooner but my Internet is down, so I have to post this at school. That's also why I did not have as much historical stuff going on... The few things I researched had to come from a dictionary. Oh joy.

As always, please correct me if I get anything wrong. I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it.

Enjoy!

* * *

While Germany and Italy went off to use some nearby bushes as a bathroom, America made an unnecessary point to go take care of business behind a tree very far away from the tent. It was always strange how America was not offended in the least by guns and gore, but avoided simple things like urinating in public. Some countries, particularly Russia, often assumed that it was because of America's size, but a more plausible reason was that America was still a young country and not quite mature enough to do otherwise.

China wanted to stay away from Russia and remain outside, but he did not have to relieve himself, so the Chinese man occupied time by quickly changing back into his old uniform. When he was done, he noticed the large, green-painted bag that America had left behind.

After a quick glance around, China crept toward the bag and peeked inside.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" America wobbled back while zipping up his pants. "Yo, that's mine!" He snatched the bag away. "Get your own super secret item of kickass ownage!"

China crossed his arms. "H-How dare you talk to your creditor that way! Do you even know how much money you owe me, aru? I have every right to see what you are making, aru!"

"Ha, are you kidding? I don't take orders from you. You didn't even fight in World War Two!"

"Wǒpēi!" China flashed madly and took out his frying pan, which apparently he always kept clipped to his pants somewhere. He smacked America several times with it.

"Ah! Ow! Sto-Ah, hey, that was hard!"

"Recognize my involvement and I will stop, aru!"

"Just use the leaves, Italy!" Germany growled as he marched out of the bushes. "I do not have any paper."

"Ve~, leaves hurt! Germany, if we don't have any toilet paper, can I have some money?"

"We do not use money for this sort of business!"

"But what about all those Marks I used after the first war-!"

"Use the leaves!" Germany stumbled a little, but not a lot. He could hold his beer very well, after countless hours of practicing with his brother, so he wasn't fully wasted. "Idiot..."

"Okay~!" Italy finished up and skipped out of the plants. "Hi, America~! What's in the bag?"

America grinned, and flashed a thumbs-up. "Something super special awesome and secret- ow!" He recoiled.

"I'm not done here, aru!" China waved his pan around. "I'll hit you as many times as it takes until you recognize my war with Japan, aru!"

"Dude, stop hitting me! Or are you trying to take over the world? Yeah! I knew it! Check it!" America shouted at the two Axis powers while pointing madly at China. "I knew it! China is trying to take over the world! That''s why he's devaluing his currency, or whatever shit he's doing!"

"Really?" Italy pouted. "Now I have to learn Chinese, ve~"

Germany frowned. "That is absurd. China is not taking over the world. And Italy, there is no language called Chinese. You should be more, more observant."

"Observant? Bene~! That is easy!"

Germany snorted in something like disgust. "Schwachkopf..."

"Observant, observant..." Italy got on his toes and looked around. "Oh! How about that funny looking cloud over the water?"

"What!" China nearly pushed over Italy to get a good look. Billows of grey smoke were clearly rising over the ocean, from the west. Besides for the Italian, all of the nations understand the implications immediately.

"A... ship!" Germany cried out in relief. "Mein Gott, a ship!" He broke out into a sprint and ran mechanically for the coastline. Italy, interested but not excited, waddled casually behind him.

China went to the tent to tell everyone else that their salvation had come, in boat form.

"Huh?" America, confused, put down his bag. His ship had come already? Was everyone leaving him now? With a bewildered and sad expression, the hero watched the others hurry out of the pub to see the miracle for themselves. "Is it time already...?"

Of all the other countries, France was the only one reluctant to go. "But please, mon cher, I have a wonderful plan!"

"Forget about it, git! We have a way out of this island now! There's a bloody ship here for us!" England dragged France with him, keeping up with Russia, who was trying to keep up with China. "And even if it's not for us, I'll take it!"

Japan came out last, since he did not really believe that someone had really come to their rescue. In his skepticism, he found that solution too convenient.

"Japan! Japan!" America brightened immediately. "Japan! Yo, come here!" He picked up his bag and dropped it in front of Japan. "Dude! You have to see what I made for you."

Japan hesitantly looked away. "O-Oh, America-kun... There is a ship here..."

"Ha, don't worry about those losers! We can have fun all by ourselves!" America crept uncomfortably close to Japan. "Right? You'll stay with me, won't you?"

Japan bowed his head and pursed his lips. "Eto, eto, eto..."

America's eyes gleamed behind his glasses. "Yeah?"

Japan concentrated very had to think of an appropriate excuse. But America was so close, and looking straight at him. Why did America care so much about Japan's presence, anyway? It was impressively sad to Japan how lonely America was. "B-But if you return home, America-kun, you can spend time with your brother. You, eto, you would not be lonely. You do not need to settle for someone that you do not even-"

"My bro, seriously? Ha! I don't even remember his name. No way! Let's stay here."

"I-I mean, eto, that you could find someone else's company very easily-"

"Why? I don't need to hang out with any other people. We're good, right?"

"I mean, you do not need me, America-kun-"

"Here, I have something to show you!" America reached into the painted bag and pulled out a huge metallic gun, as large as himself. He rested it on his shoulder and looked into the sight. "Cool, huh? I have been building it for you!"

Japan cringed a little at the sight of a firearm. Didn't America say that weapons weren't allowed here? "Eto, America-kun, I do not think that-"

"Check it out! Watch this!" America raised the enormous gun to the sky. "Ha ha! Stand back, Japan!"

"America-k-kun, do not-!"

The brash nation pulled the trigger and fired. A large rocket shot into the air, swerving erratically and shooting spurts of different colors of gasses in the sky. The colors formed shapes as a picture began to take form.

Japan stood speechless, as America grinned wildly.

The rocket formed a scene, drawn crudely in manga style, of the two playing the Japanese racing game from before. The American was beaming while the Japanese smiled calmly, and the two each had an arm over the other's shoulders. There was even an unrealistic picture of a rising sun behind them.

Japan envied the serenity on the face of his likeness. Sure, it was not exactly the most romantic picture, but it certainly made Japan blush. "W-What is the purpose of-?"

"Come on, you like it, right? And wait, there's more!"

"More...?"

The rocket fell back down to the earth, spiraling down near the coastline, right on top of eleven other unsuspecting countries.

* * *

It wasn't a ship. It was a fort.

Germany stood amazed before the enormous sea fort that had managed to park so very near the coastline. England had built forts exactly like these during World War Two to defend himself from the Luftwaffe, and Germany recognized this particular structure to be the Roughs Tower, or as it was once known, His Majesty's Fort Roughs.

Nowadays the fort was just called the Principality of Sealand. It made Germany bitter just thinking about it. After all, there had been a hostage situation on this fort several years ago. First, a citizen of Sealand had been taken hostage here by some crazy German and his mercenaries, but then the tables turned and the Germans were taken captive. So, Germany had to send a diplomat to work everything out.

Sealand claimed that this was proof that Germany considered Sealand to be an official state. The whole situation made the German man groan.

Well, maybe that so-called recognition was why Sealand had come now to save them? Maybe everything would work out after all.

Italy whistled nonchalantly after Germany. China, Russia, England, and France were not far behind and began to gather as well, waiting optimistically for the childish nation they knew was aboard to throw them a rope so they could climb the fort and get the heck out of this place.

Instead, they heard a bombastic shout from above. "Kesesese~! Your awesome savior has arrived!"

Germany's hopeful face melted pitifully. Of all people to come to their rescue... "Hölle keine..."

Prussia threw his silver-haired head over the top of the deck and grinned down at them. "Hey, West!" He jumped over the edge, slid down the side of the fort, and landed on the sandy beach. "Your big brother is here to save you!"

Germany narrowed his eyes, and noticed the redness in those of his brother's. "Have you slept well-?"

"Man, I was so cool today, West! When I realized you were gone, the awesome me was all over it." Prussia beamed madly and slapped Germany on the shoulder. "Spain figured out where you guys went, so it was up to me to find a way to get here. I got Sealand to give us a ride, since he's the fastest thing in the water. I just reminded him how you and I are the only country that recognizes him, and-"

"Fine, fine!" Germany looked behind him to see if America had followed. "Quickly, let us leave now."

"Yeah, that's a good plan." Prussia looked back to the fort. "Spain! Throw it down!"

The Spaniard waved merrily from the deck, and threw a rope ladder down. "¡Adelante! All aboard!"

"Awesome!" Prussia reached for the rope ladder.

But his hand went right through it, as if it did not exist.

Everyone gasped and froze in silence.

That is, except for the calm Russia, who noted without complaint, "Seems like one of England's spells. It appears that he does not want us to leave~"

"A-Absolutely not!" England replied fearfully, and his eyes went white. He was the most petrified of all.

Prussia's red eyes twitched, and his proud smile fell. "W-What?" He tried again. "What is going on?" He dug at the rope several more times, and every time his fingers passed through. "What the hell? Spain, throw me a real one!"

"It, it is real up here, though?" Spain yelled back helplessly with a shrug.

"G-Give me th-that!" England pushed past the other countries and grasped for the rope, but it did not work for him either. "B-Bloody hell!"

France tried as well, but, as in most of his endeavors, he failed to grasp anything. "Quelle honte..."

"This is ridiculous!" China also reached for it, but he failed as well, which made him swear several times under his breath.

Russia went up to it and passed his hand through it in innocent amusement.

"Ve~?" Italy poked at the deceptive thin air as well.

Germany growled in frustration. Damn! They were so close to getting off of this island. Why wasn't this working? "Verdammt!" He thrust at the rope.

His fingers connected with the stark material. Several pairs of resentful eyes fell on the German.

"Whoa! Yeah, that's how we do it!" Prussia laughed. "Nice going, West!"

"How...?" Germany stared at the rope. It felt perfectly real in his palm. Why could only he touch it? "H-Here, try it again, East."

Prussia did just that. Not only did his fingers go through the rope, but they also went through Germany.

The Germans were very startled. They could not touch each other.

"Wow!" Italy cheerfully waved his arm around in Germany's ethereal stomach. "Ve~! This is fun! Look Germany, I'm inside of you!"

"S-Stop that at once!" Germany let go of the rope, and Italy's arm was forced out by the return of pressure. "This is absurd..."

"B-Blast all..." England started shaking miserably. "S-Since when can you control m-magic, Germany!"

"I am doing no such thing!"

"Wait, everyone! ¡No hay que preocuparse! I will carry you all up!" Spain sat on the edge of the port. "I was able to touch Prussia a moment ago, so maybe if I do not let go of the rope, I can bring him back up?"

"Y-Yes! A-A-Absol-lutely." England agreed needlessly. He had not the faintest idea what was happening, but he wanted to seem like an expert.

Russia replied casually. "That will not work."

England shot daggers with his furious green eyes at the Russian. "Wanker!"

"Bueno, hold the rope, Romano! I am going down." Spain jumped over the side and easily crawled down the ladder. It was working well, until his feet touched the ground.

This time, the rope fell through the entire port, as if the Principality of Sealand was nothing but a hologram. Plus, the surprised country who had been holding the rope from the deck came plummeting down.

Spain jumped to the nation's rescue, and caught Romano in his arms. "Ah! Are you all right?"

"L-Let go of me!" Romano struggled and kicked until Spain put him gently down on the sand. Romano stood up immediately and pouted with crossed arms, looking away from everyone. "Fucking ship!"

At this point, France abandoned the hope of rescue, and went back to formulating a plan. His gaze shifted from his targets, Germany and Italy, to his partners in crime, Prussia and Spain, who were now stuck here with him.

"Ha ha..." Spain rubbed the back of his neck. "I suppose that did not work. Pues, we will have to try something else. Sealand! Sealand, are you up there?"

The young country smirked down at them hysterically. "You guys need my help?" Sealand was ecstatic. This was wonderful! Finally, it was Sealand's turn to shine. Now everyone would recognize him as a country!

"No! No!" England waved frantically in the negative. "Don't come down here!"

Sealand laughed. "Obviously, you wouldn't let me help! Sod off!"

"No, that's not it! Listen..." England put a finger to his temple. "There's a spell on this island! If you come down here, you won't be able to get out! That is why we can't grab the rope, or, perchance, why the rope fell through the deck."

"But what about Germany?" Italy poked his former commander, expecting the German to become a hologram again. "He could touch the rope before!"

"Stop that, Italy. We need to think of a way out of this." Germany did not understand anything about magic, but it did not escape him that he was somehow immune to the spell. He approached one of the supports of the sea fort, and indeed, he was able to feel it.

"So, only Germany can escape?" Prussia scratched the back of his head. "Ha, I wonder if he would go with Sealand and just leave us all here?"

"Nein. Nein, of course not." Germany answered immediately. But then he took a second to consider it. Could he really get off of this island? Everyone else was trapped anyway, and it wouldn't hurt anyone if he left...

"Very funny, Prussia~! Germany would never leave us!" Italy hugged his best friend around an arm. "Right, Germany, ve~?"

"... Right." Germany nodded. It was foolish for him to think otherwise, he told himself.

England shook his head. He was so thoroughly puzzled, and guilty, because he knew this magic could only be his fault. "Or, or maybe America cast a spell? Yes, perhaps-"

"Niet. It was you." Russia smiled.

England glared fiercely and grew very dark. "Th-that's impossible! When d-did I cast a spell?"

Suddenly, the sound of exhaust fumes in the sky caught everyone's attention. Everyone looked up and saw America's rocket spurting out colorful gasses, forming an awkward picture of America and Japan.

Prussia burst out laughing. "What is that all about!"

The rocket pumped out its last bit of color, then turned sharply down on to them.

China shrieked, "Run!"

But the rocket came before they could act. It crashed right into the Principality of Sealand and exploded in a magnificent burst of fire and fireworks. Half of the port broke away and fell into the water, while the half that Sealand was standing on remained intact.

"Holy fuck!" Romano screamed. "What the hell is going on in this crazy island!"

"My house!" Sealand cried out, and held his head in worry. "Oh no! My boss will kill me when he finds out! I have to go back and get it repaired, if it can still move!"

Spain cupped his mouth and called out. "Sealand! I think you should get off of that fort before it breaks down and sinks!"

"No way! I'm not getting down! I don't want to be stuck on that island with you people! This is just awful!" Sealand shook his head fretfully. "I come to help you countries and this is what I get! I'm just going to stay here and repair my house, then, and then I am leaving. You all need to find another way off yourselves!" And with that, Sealand left them to search his broken house for any surviving equipment.

Spain sighed. "I guess this did not work out so well..."

"Are you kidding? The awesome me has found West!" Prussia puffed out his chest. "Mission successful!"

"Dummkopf..." Germany already started walking back to the pub, groaning. Well, this was all a bust. Now a few more countries were stranded with them. Germany supposed that he could climb the port and help Sealand fix his house, perhaps, but that would just speed up the time that Sealand needs to leave the island and Germany did not want Sealand to leave until the curse on the island had been lifted and everyone could go home. So, what could he do?

England, convinced that America must have cursed the island, crossed his arms indignantly and followed Germany to confront the boastful patriot.

Italy floated along behind Germany and England. "Ve~"

"W-Wait, Italy." France beckoned quietly to the boyish nation. "Could you come here for a moment? And, chut, be quiet, don't tell Germany, come quietly..."

Italy stopped, and skipped over. "Hi, big brother France!"

"Chut! Little Italy! Be quiet or Germany will hear..." France crept over to Russia and China. "E-Excuse me, Russia, about that, eh, uh, thing, oui, about that thing I wanted you to do?"

China's eyes widened. "Are you asking for a favor from Rus...?" The sentiment frightened China. "G-Goodb-bye!" He ran off and followed Germany.

Russia beamed. "China is very cute, da?"

"Oh, yes, he is." France nodded, then shook his head vigorously. "Oh, b-but I am not i-interested in him! I mean, I think he is cute, but I would never, I mean-"

"You stop now, da?"

"M-Merci..." France cleared his throat loudly. "P-Please wait here a moment with Italy." The Frenchman quickly slipped over to the remaining countries.

Russia walked over to Italy. "Hello, comrade. You are cute as well, da?"

"Hi, Russia~!"

"Hello." Russia found the Italian to be very comforting. It was nice that there was a country around who did not shy away from him. "You are a very nice country." The Russian gave Italy a pat on the head. "You do not run from me, like others. Do I not scare you, comrade?"

"Ne?" Italy blinked. Everyone he knew was at least a little bit scary, so he didn't understand Russia's question.

"Ah, mes amis!" France nearly tackled Prussia and Spain in a group hug. "It is so wonderful to have you two here!"

Prussia snickered. "Where else would we be?"

"Yes, I must admit, I am somewhat relieved to find you captured by America, France." Spain chuckled. "I thought that you had forgotten about our engagement and left me on purpose. Isn't that right, Romano?"

"This sucks!" Romano kicked the sand. "I can't believe I am fucking stuck here with these fucking bastards!"

"Right!" Spain cheerfully translated for him.

"So, what's America pulling here, anyway?" Prussia noticed his younger brother leaving. "West seems even less happy than normal. And why is everyone wearing a military costume? Ha, except for you! You look like a maid, and not the cleaning kind of maid!"

"Oh, that... Well, first of all, Germany's just upset about the reenactment." France lied. He knew Germany was upset about Italy, but there was no reason to tell Prussia that. "After all, America is making us reenact World War Two. And this outfit, well, it has kind of a long story. I will tell you all about it, but in return, I want you three to help me with a certain plan."

Spain looked at France in surprise, and Prussia's red eyes flickered in excitement.

"Not on your life! I am going to find that hamburger-sucking bastard and beat the shit out of him!" Romano straightened out his jacket and marched away, following the trajectory of the rocket to find America. There was no way he would follow Germany's lead.

"Oh, yes, and your clothes..." France glanced disapprovingly down at their modern attire of jeans and t-shirts. "I will give you some military uniforms from my tent when we get back to the maid cafe. Oh, no!" France cut off Prussia before he could say anything. "Do not get your hopes up about that!"

* * *

The explosion on the coast of the small island made Japan worry greatly for the well-being of the other nations. But America did not seem to care. "Ha ha! Now that's what I am talking about!"

"America-kun! What was the purpose of that?"

"Oh, come on, there doesn't have to be a point to it! It was for you!" America spun his enormous firearm on his finger like a mere basketball. "Well? It was pure ownage, wasn't it?"

"Eto, h-hai..." Japan avoided America's gaze by looking at the remains of the rocket. The picture made by the colorful gasses had been dispersed by the ceremony of fireworks, and it now formed a different shape. Or, rather, it formed several different shapes which constituted words in English.

Confused, Japan read them aloud. "S-Sorry about World War Two?"

America grinned immaturely. "Yeah!"

"... Ano..." Japan wanted very much to sink into the earth and disappear. America had clearly forgotten that, in fact, Japan had instigated the Pacific War, not America, although the Westerner's imperialism was certainly a contributing factor. And did America not remember the other parts, like the Japanese internment camps or the American prisoners of war? The conflict was not pretty for either side. Why was he apologizing, and now of all times?

America's colorful display was quite the feat of engineering, though. It certainly required compensation on the part of the recipient, lest the Japanese burden of rudeness and guilt rack the poor Oriental man.

Japan shyly searched through his pockets to find something, anything, that he could give America. Unfortunately there was nothing more in them than the cell phone he had brought to the island and, oh, the menu that France had drawn up for the maid cafe. But a menu would be a ridiculous gift!

Still, Japan had nothing else to give. He hesitated, then spurt out, "Eto, one, one moment!" Japan turned away from America and folded the piece of paper in his hands.

America blanked. "Hm? What's going on?"

"H-Here!" Japan turned back and presented the paper menu, folded into the shape of a delicate crane. "Please take in return for the fireworks. It, it is a crane, a symbol of mine for peace. Now we are, eto, we are both free of debts."

"Oh! Origami! Sweetness!" America beamed intensely and snatched the crumpled piece of paper. The happiness in his laughing eyes was absolutely grand, and he decided that he would compliment Japan using some Japanese that he had picked up. The strong nation exclaimed, "Aishiteru!"

"Ai-Aishiteru?" Those five simple syllables paralyzed Japan like a poison.

Aishiteru does not translate easily into English. America had intended to say, "I love it!"

But Japan had heard, "I love you!" Both meanings were accurate.

The misunderstanding was made worse by the fact that the Japanese tend to be reserved about love. Most couples tend to say "like," and might go their whole lives without saying "love" to each other. Although it is not inappropriate to hear "love," it is always bold and surprising.

America laughed and played around with the paper crane. "Dude, this is so cool! Thanks, Japan!"

Japan only shivered nervously. He could not bring himself to say anything.

"Hey, come on, buddy!" America slapped Japan on the back, making Japan shudder even harder. "Huh? Are you cold? Here, take my jacket." In a second, the brown bomber jacket came off and America slipped it through Japan's arms. "All better now, right?"

A strange knot formed in Japan's stomach, and he thought he was going to puke. "Eto, eto, eto, eto, eto, eto..."

"Good! Ah, that was fun." America combed back his hair with his fingers. "Eh, I'm bored now. Let's go find something fun to do!"

Japan gulped loudly and took many breaths, as though exhausted. Why did he feel so strange? Was he sick? America couldn't be serious, right?

"Maybe we can mess around with the other guys, if they're still here. If not, I have plenty of battery for my games! Oh, never mind, here come some of them now." America put his hands to his hips. "Ha ha! Back for more?"

Gasping for air and hunched forward slightly, Japan hardly noticed that Germany, England and China had returned. "Eto, eto, eto-"

"Japan!" China shrieked. "You are wearing America's jacket, aru! It is making you sick!"

Germany was less concerned. "It is better than the dress..."

"Maybe it is part of the curse on this island!" England muttered sinisterly. "And Japan is the first to go..."

"Don't you see what this means, aru?" China defensively pushed himself between America and Japan. "Japan is losing his culture to the Western devils, aru! How dare you so readily embrace internationalism and sell yourself out to leave your brothers behind, aru!"

Japan tried to raise his voice. "Eto, eto, Ch-China-kun..."

"Who is internationalism?" America asked.

"Bèndàn!" China hissed. "Japan, take off that article of clothing, aru!"

"Don't be mean, yo! Japan's cold." America easily elbowed China out of the way to hold Japan captive by the shoulder. "Right, Japan?"

Japan went dumb and nearly fainted.

"Bastardo americano! Andare all'inferno, stronzo!" An angry Italian stepped over some branches and rubbed some dirt off of his pants before striding right up to America and poking him in the chest. "You fucking American bastard!"

"What's up? Who are you?"

"I'm Italy! You recognized me on the phone!" Romano replied bitterly. "You are a bigger idiot than my brother! And he's a big enough idiot to come here! Now we are all fucking stranded on this island because of you! Just because you're rich enough to change the thermostat and leave lights on in your house doesn't mean that you can fucking hoard us here!"

America chuckled, and shrugged. "Why not? We're having fun, and this is awesome!"

"I'll tell you why, you overconfident fuck! How dare you take my brother without a second thought! I ought to send the mafia right to your house and teach you a lesson!"

"Oh." America smiled. "I bet you're just jealous. You missed the real Italy and were all lonely and pathetic, ha ha! You're so lame!"

Japan almost said something, but he still couldn't regained his nerves. Maybe this was his chance to flee, while America was distracted?

"Fuckface!" Romano punched America in the nose, or he moved to, but America merely slapped it away. "Cazzo, stand still!"

"Why?"

"Because you took Veneziano from me, bastard!" Romano tried to slam another fist into America.

Germany came forward, though, and pulled Romano away. "This is not accomplishing anything."

"Fucking German potato bastard! Let me go! You're not in charge of me anymore!" Romano squirmed. "Don't act all superior to me, just because your brother knew right away what happened and it took a day for me to realize my brother was gone!"

"What was that?" Germany lifted Romano up and questioned him by staring him in the eyes.

Romano shook fearfully for a second, but quickly overcame it with another fit of anger. "You s-stupid macho potato bastard! You don't even know that your bastard of an albino brother has been obsessed with finding you ever since you left! He couldn't even fucking shut up about it on the way over here!"

"Is that so?" Germany was surprised. He did not think that Prussia would worry about him like that. It made Germany feel a little responsible, since he had, after all, left Prussia without a word of explanation. And just now, he had left his brother on the beach so quickly. Germany knew that he should be grateful for having someone he can count on, unlike other countries he could not trust.

Cough, France, cough.

However, unlike Prussia, Romano had been left with the impression that his brother had only gone to the airport, and so Romano did not look into it until Spain called. Romano couldn't even remember why Veneziano had left their home in the first place. What a lousy older brother he turned out to be!

"Where're you going, Japan?" America called abruptly.

Japan froze in his tracks, less than a meter away from America. So much for an escape plan.

America smiled. "Oh, I get it! We should keep reenacting the war! That's what you're doing, right?"

The Japanese man held his hands anxiously. "E-Eto..."

"Exactly! Right! So! Who knows what comes next!" America asked, right in China's face.

"W-What is your problem, aru?" China took a step back. "Besides, we are missing several people."

"Ha! I don't need those guys, man!" As if to spite all of these nations, America grabbed Japan and hugged him possessively. "See? I've got all I need right here!"

Oh no! His personal space again! Japan couldn't take much more of this. "Am-mericak-kun-!"

"America!" China protested at the sight. "Release Japan!"

"Ja." Germany said. "Look at him. He is clearly uncomfortable."

"Let go of him already, wanker... We need as many people as possible to fight the evil magic here..."

"Oh? What are you guys talking about?" America pulled Japan out to arm's length and asked him. "Are you okay, Japan?"

Confused and startled, Japan realized that he had to steel himself and tell America something, anything, that would end this disaster, or it would only continue to drag on. But when Japan searched for an answer behind America's glasses, he saw those lonely, gleaming eyes, trying so very had to find an answer in Japan's black gaze.

"H-Ha, Hai." Japan answered as calmly as possible. "P-Please c-contin-nue with th-the reena-actem-ment."

"Hah, yeah! See, Japan is cool. You guys are retards." America let Japan go and asked China again. "So, what comes next?"

Japan stood quietly off to the side, hyperventilating.

"Fine, aru." China rolled his eyes up in thought. "I believe we are still in autumn of 1944. The Allies take Belgium, and Russia declares war on Bulgaria, aru."

"What?" Romano cried out in fear. "It is 1944? Fuck! I've gone back in time!"

"Don't be absurd..." England said with a low voice, still searching for the source of the curse with the imaginary power of his mind. "This is just a farby reenactment..."

"What? Then, if it's 1944, this is when the Allies start invading your ass, potato bastard!" Romano pointed an accusing finger at his former drill sergeant. "H-Ha ha! I remember that! England and America come in from one side, then later, Russia from the other! You finally got what was coming to you!"

Germany frowned. "I hardly think-"

"I would not be taking the high ground if I were you, aru." China shrugged. "We already invaded you, Romano."

"W-What! What! You i-invaded me w-without me? That's not fair! Humph! Bastards, all of you!" Romano threw a tantrum by digging his feet into the ground and crossing his arms, refusing to move or say anything else.

America pushed up his glasses in concentration. "Hold on. Hold on. You mean, we actually invade the Nazi already, in 1944? No way! Even I know the war ended in 1945! You can't trick me."

"1944 w-was the beginning of th-that invasion, America, that is true." Germany answered stoically. "But Berlin and most of my land remained until 1945-"

"Okay! Invasion of Germany, 1944! Yeah. We'll just do the part without the Commies." America took a few steps toward the maid cafe. "Since it's Germany, why not another drinking game? I hardly got a drink last time, and Japan really liked the game, right, Japan?"

Japan looked nervously at the other countries. "S-Someone please help me..."

"No more beer, aru!" China barked. "Why can't we play a more wholesome game?"

Germany was a little offended by that remark. Beer is perfectly wholesome!

"B-Before we get to that," England interrupted. "There is still the matter of the spell on this island."

"Huh? Spell?" America repeated pointlessly.

"Yes, git! A spell!" England replied bitterly. "You mean, you do not know about it?"

"Know about what?"

"The bloody spell!"

"Uh, no, I guess I don't." America pretended to contemplate the idea by holding his chin. "Aren't spells your thing, anyway?"

"B-But this magic isn't mine! It, it can't be!" England pulled his hair back. "That's impossible. It is certainly impossible!"

America chuckled. "I think you've finally gone of the deep end, Iggy! Ha ha- oh! Oh, I got it!" A spark passed his face, and he snapped his fingers. "I know what we'll play! Yeah! We'll go back to the clearing in the middle of the island and use the paintball guns again! It'll be me and England on one side, and Germany on the other!"

China scoffed indignantly. "That is very unoriginal, aru-"

But America was already speeding away, pushing his emotional wreck of a Japanese friend along with him, leaving the enormous firearm in the green bag behind.

* * *

After recounting the happenings of the island (or, at least, the ones that France was at liberty to discuss) to the newcomers, France gathered Prussia, Spain, Italy, and Russia in a small circle. "Listen, everyone. How would you all, oh, like to play a game with me?"

"Oh, I know what that means! What are you planning this time, France?" Spain asked with a laugh.

"Ja, we want in!" Prussia answered confidently, even though he was still twitching erratically as a result of his hours lost to worry and insomnia.

"Well, it is very important that no one be able to trace this scheme back to me." France scanned all the faces in front of him, though he skipped over Russia's. "You all need to keep this game a secret, understand?"

Spain nodded. "Vale."

Prussia leaned in closer. "Gut."

"Yay, a game!" Italy shouted with excitement, then hushed his voice to a whisper. "Oh, sì, ve~"

"Of course, comrade." Russia answered simply. "I keep many secrets, da?"

"Eh, b-bien." France impulsively rubbed the back of his neck and his shoulder. "L-Let me start with the objective of the game. You see, there is a certain country on this island who is, oh, a little too stiff-"

"Ha ha!" Prussia burst out boldly. "Natürlich! We're getting West some action, huh? 'Bout time!"

Spain's eyes opened wider, and looked at the clueless Italy. "Caray..."

"Oui, Prussia, though I would not put it that way." France gave Italy a pat on the back. "And, if this plan works, then I will make Germany confess to Italy all by himself! Ah, it is a genius plan!"

"Confess? Ve~ I knew it!" Italy declared cheerfully. "Germany does like my pasta!"

Spain sighed with a resigned smile. "... I think France means a different kind of confession, Italy."

Prussia snickered. "Why don't you just throw Italy on top of West and call it a day? That would be a lot easier than making a whole plan, and a lot funnier too."

"Believe it or not, mon cher, I already tried that. Non, non, it did not work... I need the most wonderful, sinister plan that a Frenchman can think of! And with you two here, I have it!" France winked. "There is absolutely no way that this scheme will fail. You see, I am going to win Germany over through nothing more than peer pressure."

"Peer pressure?" Prussia laughed derisively. "Really, that's the best you can come up with?"

"Absolutely! I believe that Germany is difficult because he is prideful, among some, uh, some other reasons. It is too embarrassing for him, I think. I know this because when America ran in on them, he..." France spoke faster to skip over that part. "Well, I can use this to my advantage. If I can get everyone else on the island to play along and pair up, then Germany will follow the crowd and confess to Italy, non?"

"Wait, France." Spain smiled worriedly. "I think that we may be taking advantage of Veneziano here. We should make sure that Italy here has the passion for love, or this will never work!"

"Oh, leave that to me." France scooted closer to Italy, but he didn't touch the small nation, for fear that if Germany ever found out, there would be dire consequences. "Ah, little Italy, you like Germany, oui?"

"Ve~" Italy swayed his head.

"And you would like to see him happy?"

Italy stopped, then nodded. "Ve!"

"And!" Spain added dreamily. "Do you hold him close to your heart? Do you see him when you close your eyes, do you hear him when you listen to the gentle music of guitar strings-"

"In other words!" Prussia cut in bluntly. "Do you want to make out with him?"

"Prussia! You cannot ask him so directly!" France threw back his hair. "You must be subtle, mon cher, which is why this is a game. The rules? Just confess your love to someone, and make sure the stubborn German sees it..."

Russia hummed. "How does one win game, comrade?"

"Oh, eh, it's a team game. We will all win if Germany gets with Italy. And we absolutely must win. We will win!" France chuckled darkly and muttered lowly. "Take that, Rheinbund..."

"Ha ha ha! I like it." Prussia leapt up onto his feet. "Come on! It's time for the awesome us to save West!"

* * *

Armed with the paintball guns, America and England stood on the Allied side of the clearing while Germany took his place on the Axis side. Japan, China, and Romano, however, did not bother separating, and instead stayed together off to the side.

"What the hell are they doing?" Romano roughly nudged China. "What the fuck is going on?"

China resisted sticking his tongue out at the vulgar nation. "Be more polite and I will tell you, aru."

"Humph. Forget it! I don't fucking care."

Japan sat quietly, with his eyes as dark as ever but his cheeks flushed pink, hoping that America would explain his strange behavior at some point and that someone else would save him from this strangeness.

"Okay!" America raised his gun. "Here we go! Invasion of Germany on the Western front, 1944! But, this game will be different than the one before. The goal here is to try and shoot the target on the other side. I'll mark this line here." America dragged his foot across the ground. "Stay behind this and shoot!"

England groaned. "All right. But as soon as this is done, I have to find the source of the curse! So, let's win this quickly and be done with it."

It seemed to Germany that England's most efficient way out would be to lose more quickly, not win. Nonetheless, Germany pointed out impatiently, "There are no targets, America."

"Oh. Yeah. Right. Hey, Romano! China!" America shouted at the three temporarily-neutral nations. "Go stand over there, at the end of this wide space!"

"Why the fuck should I do that, hamburger bastard!"

"Yes, what are you up to, aru?"

"Nothing!" America replied innocently while he found a satisfactory position behind the line. "Stand at the way rear, you two! Oh, no, that's too far. A little to the left. Good, perfect, stay right there! Oh, wait, Japan..."

Japan stopped and shook. "H-Hai?"

"You, uh, shouldn't stand there with those two. Come on! You can come here and stay by us!" America pointed to the ground beside him.

"... What?" England glanced curiously at his Ally. "America, don't you remember that Japan is an enemy? Honestly, you are terribly fickle!"

"What's the problem? Japan can't be with us? He can stand in the middle, then." America grinned. "You got an issue with that?"

England grimaced. "You are treating Japan very strangely... is all."

"Oh, that's just 'cause he's so awesome. Right?" America welcomed the coming Axis power with a hand wave. "Right, Japan?"

"Hai..." Japan quietly stepped in between the two Allies and the single Axis power, tentatively avoiding America's reach. He also ignored Germany's curious gaze.

"Ha ha! Japan's a little shy, I think." America whispered carelessly to England. "Isn't he cute?"

The British gentleman's ears perked up. "Hm? Cute! What do you-?"

"Let's do this! The hero goes first!" America quickly pointed his gun at Romano from across the field and fired.

"Wha-!" A red slush struck a very surprised Romano's left hand. "Ah-Ow!" Infuriated, he screamed, "Chigi!"

England, with only the most minimal amount of hesitation, followed suit and opened fire on China.

"Huh-!" A green coat of paint violently colored China's shoes, making the man recoil at the blow. "A-Aru! T-Traitors, aru!"

"Ha ha! We got them! Right on target!" America stylishly blew off the aperture of the paintball gun, as if it were smoking, and scoffed Germany. "Beat that, Axis!"

"... Ja..." Germany raised his own paintball gun and aimed at Romano.

Romano's eyes opened wide and he waved his hands. "W-What the hell are you d-doing, potato bastard! D-Don't shoot me! I-I am an Axis, I, I started as an Axis, anyway! Shoot the opium bastard!"

China shook his hands with fury. "Don't shoot me, either, aru!"

"Hm." Germany, recognizing that there was no reason for him to win, angled his gun away from Romano, and fired his gun into the empty space between Romano and China.

The purple splatter of paint wrapped around thin air and floated. Romano and China stared at the floating paint in confusion. China muttered, "The paint must be affected by England's curse, aru..."

"Ha! Whoa! You suck! Total miss! Yeah, Allies win!" America cheered and tossed his gun to the side. "Come on, Japan! Let's celebrate!"

"No, no, no!" England wagged his finger at America. "I have had enough of you obsessing over Japan!"

"What are you talking about, dude? Hah, you are so weird sometimes, Iggy. Are you just jealous 'cause Japan is so much more awesome than you?"

"Twit!" England nearly pulled his hair out. "W-What the bloody hell is wrong with you! Your behavior is unacceptable. I did not raise you like some nancy boy! I insist that you leave Japan alone this instant!"

America shrugged. "Why should I listen to you?"

England flinched back. That comment hurt him more than he would have expected. England steadied himself by planting his feet and sharpening his tongue. "Well, d-don't you want to have an accurate reenactment? U-Unless, you want to be just some farby amateur..."

"Hmm..." America tapped his chin with his finger. "Yeah, I guess. Hey, Japan! Go to the Axis side. We can hang out later, right?"

Japan stopped himself from breathing a large sigh of relief. "H-Hai!" He returned to Germany's side as modestly as possible.

"Hah, what am I saying..." America slapped his forehead and laughed. "You're not leaving, right, Japan? We're just on different sides for now, is all. Okay. That's fine. That's fine! Yeah! Come on, you guys, let's hurry this up. China, other Italy person, get over here!"

England grimaced and shook his head, while China and Romano came over, preparing their venomous chastising speeches for the American dictator.

Meanwhile, Japan delicately avoided conversation with his leader. "D-Do not mind me, Germany-kun. I will stand here and not bother you."

"Ja..." Germany looked his miserable friend over. "Sowieso, are you well, Japan?"

"H-Hai."

"You do not seem well."

"I, et, eto, I am well." Japan answered quietly.

Germany frowned. "Are you sick? If so, then a respite in the work is acceptable, if you are sick enough-"

"Please d-do not worry about me, Germany-kun." Japan nodded heavily to make his point. "I, eto, I am sure that America will come to his senses soon."

"Oh, is that all? Calm down, Japan. We are nearing the end of the war; this will all be over soon. Do not worry about it."

"... Hai." Japan was a little frustrated that Germany did not see the problem, but then again, Germany wouldn't be able to help Japan anyway; they suffered from very nearly the same dilemma.

"All right, everyone!" America shouted rapturously. "It's time to-!"

"Kesesese!"

America, England, Japan, Germany, Romano, and China, in that order, turned to see Prussia proudly leading his entourage of Russia, France, Spain, and Italy to the fray. "The awesomeness has arrived!"

Without missing a beat, America marched out to the middle of the field to meet them. "Where did you guys come from?"

The five nations with America gathered behind him, all of them impatient for the next round to continue and for the game to end. Even the floating slush of purple paint drifted over toward the group.

Spain chuckled lightheartedly. "Oh, we just came to stop by."

"And dragged me along, tomato bastard..." Romano grumbled, though that was not true at all. He was secretly glad to see his brother, smiling obliviously behind Russia.

"Ha ha ha!" Prussia struck a valiant pose. "You cannot hide my little brother from me! I'm here to rescue West because I'm the awesome-"

"Wait, wait, wait." America scratched his head. "So, now we have the other Italy, Romano, and Spain, yeah. But," America pushed his glasses up. "Who are you, the one with the red eyes?"

"The awesome me, of course!"

"But who are you? You're not a nation, as far as I know." America shrugged with an ironically apologetic smile. "This reenactment is for countries, only. Sorry."

Prussia's smirk twitched. "You think I'm..."

"No, no, America!" Spain said quickly. "Prussia is Germany's older brother, like Romano is Veneziano's-"

"Don't bother with that, Spain!" Prussia turned back to his friend and grinned crazily. "We have a game to play, ja! And check this out. I am going to win it for us!" Prussia pushed past America, flashed a superior smirk to his confused brother, and stood in front of the floating slush of purple paint.

"Already?" France whispered. "I hope this is not too soon..."

Prussia took the hands of the floating paint. "Hey!"

Canada widened his eyes in amazement. "Y-You can see me, sir?"

Everyone else gaped as the sudden appearance of Canada, who, in fact, had been there the entire time. Having been another passenger on the plane for America and England, poor Canada was just as invisible as he had been during the war. Germany swore at his bad luck for having unintentionally hit Canada with the paintball gun, but at least they would be able to find him now.

"You bet!" Prussia knelt down. "So, ja. Hören! I love you, Kumpel! Be my boyfriend, ja!"

Canada stared in shocked confusion.

The silence that ensued was broken only by a poorly-suppressed French laugh of victory. France was grinning from ear to ear, taking in the German's wonderfully devastated expression.

"W-Was! Du trottel! Schwachsinnige!" Germany screamed at Prussia. "What is wrong with you!"

"Me? Ha! What's wrong with you, West?" Prussia took the startled Canada by the arm. "You don't like my boyfriend? I think that he's cute. And, despite what Herr Not-Awesome thinks," he shot a superior look at America, "Canada and I both exist. Ha ha ha!"

"Ex-xcuse me, M-Mister Prussia... " Canada stuttered.

"You're with me now, ja?" Prussia pulled Canada closer, making sure that the pissed-off Germany got a good look. "So... Do you want to make out?"

Canada gasped. "I, I, no! Goodness, w-what is going on here...?"

Not wanting to be the slow one of the group, Spain quickly picked up where Prussia left off. "Oh, Romano..." Spain glided over to his former charge. "¡Hola, Romano!"

Romano flinched back in annoyance. "What are you about?"

Spain knelt down on the ground, as Prussia had done, and gave Romano a knowing smile.

"Are you... Doing what... He just.. No! No! Fuck no!" Romano shrieked madly, and kicked Spain's face. "S-Stay away from me, tomato bastard!"

Spain fell backwards, and laughed lightheartedly while rubbing his nose. "Pero, R-Romano-"

"You people are fucking crazy!" Romano backpedalled nervously. "This island is fucking crazy!"

England agreed. "Right! That is because there is a curse-"

"Shut up, tea-drinking bastard! I did not ask you!"

"Romano, please." Spain smiled charmingly. "Let me explain."

Instead, being the true Italian that he is, Romano pushed past a couple of countries and fled screaming, towards the camp of the Allies. "Get the hell away from me~!"

Italy waved. "Ciao, Romano!"

The cheerful Spaniard sighed. Well, that did not work very well. "Ay, Romano... Wait for me, I can explain!" Spain got back on his feet and dashed after him.

"Hey, don't go without us, Spain!" Prussia hugged the shellshocked Canada around the neck and pushed him along, laughing maniacally. "Come on, Canada, let's go get a beer."

"W-Where do you think you are going! Get back here!" Germany shouted and stormed after them.

France turned away to hide his devilish smirk from the others. Everything was going perfectly. As long as Spain, and maybe Italy, could get Romano to capitulate, then they would win the game in no time. And with that thought, he sidestepped over to Italy and whispered some casual advice. "Oh, Italy, I think you should follow them... And tell your brother to play along, oui? Or else, we cannot win."

"Huh? Oh, molto bene~!" Italy skipped away.

France pursed his lips. That was too easy!

"Ha, see you people later." America laughed. "Crap, all these new countries are making things confusing. Yo, let's get back to the reenactment!" America turned to the nearest Asian, who happened to be China because Japan was keeping his distance. "What happens next?"

France suddenly broke out into laughter at his genius. Evidently, he had been holding it in until the German was out of earshot. England gave him a wry look, but no one else cared.

"... I'll just skip the liberation and civil war of Greece, aru..." China remarked with a biting tone. "At the beginning of 1945, you begin to retake the Philippines from Japan, and then you start firebombing, aru."

"Wait." America looked up in thought. "... Japan, you said?"

China nodded, suspicion sparkling in his eye.

Japan jumped in shock, but he couldn't run away. The brown bomber jacket on his shoulders felt like a suspiciously warm straightjacket.

"Cool! Ha ha!" America immediately ran and jumped onto the shaking Japan. "Now it totally counts, England! I can hang out with Japan again!"

"Western devil!" China growled. "If you're going to do that, would you at least remove your jacket from his person, aru!"

Japan muttered quietly, "P-Please let go, A-America-kun-"

"What is wrong with you, America! Your behavior is completely inappropriate!" England slapped the young patriot upside the head. "The curse will have to wait for me to teach you a few basics about proper etiquette!"

"Ow, dude! Lay off!" America shrugged off the blow. "It's not like I have to listen to you."

Once again, that retort hurt the British Gentleman a little too much. But England wasn't caught off guard this time. "Oh, is that so!" He hollered back with all his dignity. "What has Japan done for you that I haven't done!"

America finally let Japan go, so he could shout back at England. "Well, he recognizes how awesome I am, for starters! At least he treats me like his equal, and not some subordinate!"

"What! That is utterly absurd." England put his hands to his hips. "I treat you as an equal. Granted, an equal that I raised from the ground up! An equal that can't even distinguish me from Ireland or Scotland on a bloody map!" England ran a hand through his hair. "And now I see you becoming some sort of bender, a barmy faggot, for a man you hardly even know!"

Japan, grateful to be able to breathe again, quietly stepped aside but stayed near enough so as not to arouse suspicion from America. "Eto, I think that it might be best if you two calmed down-"

"Man, are you talking about Japan? You retard, check this out." America showed England the crane that Japan had sculpted in a haste, cradling it carefully on his palms. "Origami! And it's a crane, which represents peace, I think. See? I do know stuff about Japan."

"Really!" England eyed the scrap of paper with contempt. "So Japan here says a few kind words and gives you some piece of rubbish, and suddenly-"

"It's not trash! It's a crane!"

"Well, then, let's see if it flies!" England snatched the crane from America's hands, his tight grip violently distorting the paper wings, and threw it off to the side with such a vigor that the crane plummeted harshly and immediately to the ground.

America, startled and angry, stared quietly at the ruined gift.

The tension in the air finally ripped France from his scheming, and he wondered if maybe England hadn't gone too far. Japan and China were both silent, and Russia only smiled darkly.

"O-Oh." England's eyes widened at his error. "America... I, I did not intend to-"

"Dude." America muttered lowly. "That wasn't cool."

There was a stark moment of silence.

That is, until Russia joyfully and swiftly broke it, like an empty bottle of vodka. "I think this would be perfect time to hold Yalta Conference, da?"

* * *

I am sure that you all remember where England's curse is from.

By the way, military forts are typically stationary and rarely travel halfway around the world to nondescript islands. Sealand, however, is different, as shown in the Hetalia movie, ha ha.

Thanks for reading!


	8. A Yalta Conference and an Axis One, Too

Hey again! This isn't so much of an update as it is a notice that I'm still interested in this story. Really, I never lose interest in it, but I never have any free time, either. Just a heads up, if you want to message me, it'll take a while for me to get back to you. I'm going to be doing some volunteer work in Vietnam for the full month of July, so I won't have a computer with me.

But you don't care about any of that! You want to read what I've got, right?

Enjoy!

* * *

Russia had a tendency to be the host for the meetings between the Allies, and the Yalta Conference was no exception. After all, the Crimean port of Yalta on the Black Sea belonged to Ukraine, and therefore belonged to Russia, because the Soviet Union was one big happy family, in which everything belonged to everyone. This was why Russia took it upon himself to set up the next game for the reenactment.

Well, that was the reason that Russia gave, anyway.

Meanwhile, England and America stood on opposite sides of the clearing. Evidently, they were no longer on speaking terms. America had roped in Japan to keep him company, and to have someone to complain to. England, however, was alone, so he had to keep himself distracted by pondering the source of the curse, which he was growing ever more desperate to find and which he blamed for all of his problems.

France knew what Russia was really planning. Er, not the plan exactly, but France knew it had to do with the peer pressure scheme. Hopefully, Germany would return before it got to that, but until then France had to get China to play along as well.

China came to him first. "I can't believe that ship turned out to be nothing but a false hope, aru! I think you should commission me to build an airport in addition to the maid café, aru."

"Mon cher, I do not think... Did you say commission?"

"Yes, aru! Do you think I build for free?" China grimaced judgmentally. "You are paying for my service when we get back to land, aru! And I am certainly not going to build an airport here if I cannot make a profit from it, aru!"

"But I thought it was from the good of your heart!" France sighed coolly. "Oh, I suppose payment is only fair, even though it did not entirely work. Actually, it may have made me worse off... But I cannot afford to have you build an airport here." The Frenchman doubted that China could even pull off a project of that scale, but it wasn't entirely impossible. China had accomplished more unlikely feats before.

And this was going to be one of them.

France flipped back his hair. "Anyway, my friend, would you be so kind as to do me a small favor?"

"What now, aru?" China remarked with perfectly-warranted exasperation.

"Nothing too difficult. In fact, I will even make it simpler for you." France gave the Chinese man the charming grin of a con-artist. "Do you remember what happened between Prussia and, uh, um, that other guy..."

"Yes, I remember." China shook his head disapprovingly. "How can I forget, aru!"

France nodded, more at his own thoughts than in agreement with his Ally. "Yes, well, that sort of event, or something like that sort of event, is going to happen again at least one more time, here, very soon. Do you understand, mon cher?"

"What? That is ridiculous! Between who?" China looked around at the remaining nations. "... Do you mean between America and Japan, aru?" China spat furiously. "Because I will not let America-!"

"Non, non, I do not mean them! Although, that is an interesting idea, but... Non, non."

"Then..." China's brow raised. "Do you mean England and yourself?"

What! What a ridiculous idea! France parted his lips to answer in the negative.

But China was just chock full of good ideas today.

Without a second of hesitation, France answered with a sly wink. "Absolument, mon cher."

* * *

"Romano? Romano! Please, get down from there! I can explain everything, but please come down, or you will hurt yourself."

"No w-way! Fuck off, tomato bastard!"

Prussia burst into the pub, with Canada taken captive under one arm, to find Spain staring up at the top of the tent, where Romano had managed to secure himself. The Italian showed no signs of coming back down.

At least Spain was taking it with good humor. "Ay, Prussia, amigo, can I have some help here?" Spain shrugged with a happy laugh.

"I hate all of you!" Romano buried his face into the top of the tent. "Go to hell!"

Prussia laughed. "You should have picked someone else to play the game with, Spain." He let his voice drip with reverse psychology. "After all, Romano would never go along with our plan to humiliate West. He's far too, ha ha, he's far too good for that!"

The Italian glanced down at them. "W-What?"

An embittered Germany burst into the pub and nearly knocked Prussia over. Spain, however, stepped in front of him, like a bullfighter attempting to tame his beast. "Hola. You seem upset, Germany, but you should relax! After all..." Spain smiled charmingly. "We are all Axis powers here."

"Please step aside, Spain, I-" Germany's eyes twitched. "... You were an Axis power? I do not remember you having any involvement."

"Oh, lo siento, sorry about that." Spain dipped his head in apology. "I had a civil war right before the Second World War began, so, I could not really help too much. P-Pero! I had a Fascist dictatorship until 1975, so I would have belonged to the Axis powers, had anyone asked..."

"Spain, you don't have to stall him!" Prussia shouted. "We're ready to go here."

"Stalling!" The enlightened German stared harshly at the delightful Spaniard, who only chuckled. Germany pushed past him to find Prussia leaning against the bar, with Canada standing rigidly at confused attention.

Romano, still cursing several times, finally jumped down from the ceiling. Of course, Spain moved to catch him, but Romano simply took that opportunity to land his foot on Spain's face and kick him to the floor. Spain, of course, kept his good spirits, and took Romano to the side to calmly whisper to him in Spanish.

"Explain yourself, East!" Germany poked his finger into Prussia's chest. "What are you doing with, with, with, with this country here?"

Despite Prussia's hand hook around his shoulders, Canada sighed in timid exasperation.

"His name is Canada, West. It really isn't that hard to remember. And besides, we are dating! Ha ha! That explains everything, ja?"

"Nein! I, I mean, no! It does not explain anything!" Germany grabbed Prussia's arm and freed Canada from that East German restraint. "I sincerely apologize for my brother. You may leave him now."

Canada looked nervously between the two Germans. "Um..."

"Ha ha! Good one, West, but Canada isn't going anywhere." Prussia flashed a confident grin. "Right, boyfriend?"

"Uh..."

"That is ridiculous! How can he be your boyfriend when you hardly know him! And more importantly..." Germany realized the foolishness of his tirade, and cut himself off. "Nothing."

"What? Did you have something to say to me?" Prussia pulled his arm out of Germany's grasp. "Go ahead. Say it. Is it 'cause Canada is a guy?"

"Of course not! You know as well as I do that same-gender partnerships are acceptable. It's because..." Germany's gaze shifted to the side. "I have nothing more to say."

"Ha ha! Tough guy West is speechless? That's great. Come on, Canada." Prussia held out his pale hand to the nation. "You want to be my boyfriend, right?"

"Well…" Canada really wanted to say no, but no one had ever paid him so much attention before. It was kind of nice to be valued so much by someone so, for lack of a better word, awesome. The soft-spoken country replied unsteadily, "I, I guess it's okay, I guess."

Germany groaned and palmed his face. "Ach du meine Güte..."

"See? Ha ha! Canada digs me. You can't blame him, though. I am just too awesome." Prussia clutched Canada's hand like a school girl.

Canada nearly jumped in his shoes. "Oh, um! Sorry, I'm a little sweaty..." Canada had to take his hand back and wipe it against the side of his pants. Not wanting to seem rude, though, he quickly grabbed Prussia's hand again, and blushed. "Sorry."

Prussia smirked. This was so easy. At this rate, he would win France's game all by himself.

The unfortunate Germany did not know what to make of any of this, especially the immature example that his crazy older brother seemed to suddenly be setting for him. Germany decided the best thing to do would be to look the other way and ignore Prussia for now, lest thoughts about Italy come back-

No! Stop that! Do not think about him right now, Germany. After all, he's not here right now. He has nothing to do with this, nothing at all. Calm down. Do not think about him.

"Romano, come back, ve~!" Italy skipped into the tent. "Oh, ciao, everyone!"

"I-Italy! G-Get out of here, at once!" Germany spun around and let his suppressed rage rain down on Italy. "You should not be here! Get out!"

The innocent Italian only pouted in response. "Ve..."

"Ha ha ha! Oh, come on, West!" Prussia turned his head sinisterly toward Canada. "If he leaves, he'll miss the best part."

"Was?" Germany quickly put his attention back on his brother. "What are you-?"

Prussia abruptly pulled the startled Canada's face into his own, and immediately Canada was as red as the maple leaf on his flag.

Through the sudden explosion of confused thoughts running around in his head, Germany vaguely heard Romano shout at Spain, "What the hell! I am not going to do that!"

* * *

Russia pat down with his hands on the rectangular plot of barren earth that he had created. "Game is ready, da?"

England did not answer, pretending to be too occupied with his mental powers.

America, however jumped at the chance for some action. "All right, let's go! Yalta conference, yeah... I totally know what Yalta is. Sort of. Yeah... Uh, hey, Japan!" He pulled his Asian friend closer. "What is this meeting all about anyway?"

Japan looked down while he spoke. "Eto, the Yalta Conference was the meeting between the Allies to discuss how to, eto, to, to discuss post-war plans." It seemed to him that America had forgotten about his earlier confession, so Japan felt a little better. But most of that was undone by the hostility between America and England, which drew America even closer to Japan.

Japan was worried about England, too, but that hardly mattered. Japan had quite enough to worry about.

"Ah, England, mon cher." France meandered over to the displaced British gentleman. "Did you not hear? It is time for us to play, again."

"Humph." England sat cross-legged on the grass and raised his nose to France. "N-No, I am quite busy here, thank you."

"How lazy, aru." If only to avoid Russia for a few more seconds, China also came to give England the sort of criticism that someone could mistakenly interpret as emotional support. "It is not fair to pin America's games on the rest of us while you sit here and daydream! So get up and man it out, aru!"

"... Or..." France drew closer to England. "I can sit here and be your sympathetic friend. Perhaps you would like to kiss again?"

"A-Absolutely not, you bloody frog!" England pushed himself up, nearly decking France in the process. "F-Fine, I will play! But, l-let's make this quick-"

America suddenly shot England a dull remark. "You don't have to play, England."

England stopped in surprise. "W-W-What? O-Oh, am I not good enough to play, now?"

"You're, you're busy with your stupid curse thing, aren't you?" America looked away, bored. "I don't care what you do."

"Well, if th-that's the case..." England folded his arms indignantly and pretended that he did not feel like he had just been punched in the gut. "W-Why not remove me from the island now, if I'm so unwanted!"

America shrugged. "... Okay. You can leave."

"W-W-What? ... R-Really?"

China growled. "How can you say such a thing, aru! America, you should let all of us leave, aru!"

Russia said nothing, but his was a happy silence.

The Frenchman's glorious grin darkened into a worried grimace. "Non, non!" France impulsively stepped in to intervene. "Mes amis, this is ridiculous! I insist that you make peace!" His plans had come too far to be ruined by some petty fight between these two! He could not have anyone leave yet.

"I, eto, I agree." Japan nodded his head politely, which contrasted with the shaking in his voice. "A-America-kun, p-please forgive England-kun."

"Forgive!" England shouted incredulously. "Forgive me for what? For slightly squishing a piece of paper?"

America frowned. "Dude, it was a crane."

"Oh, it was a crane? I already know that, git!"

"Please, England, mon cher! You must apologize." France begged with folded fingers before England, which the British gentleman found to be quite stupid and exaggerated. "After all, what is a silly piece of paper between brothers?"

"B-Brothers?" England soured, and his tone grew even more caustic. "W-Well, his little Declaration was just a silly piece of paper between brothers... And besides, I-"

"Oh! Is that what this is about?" France sighed in relief, and quickly reasserted his more manipulative view of the situation. He whispered quietly to his friend. "Ah, dear England, are you afraid that little America is going to shut you of his life again, just because he spends more time with Japan?"

Despite himself, England reeled back in surprise. "… N-No…?"

Yes! France had hit it home. His plans would succeed yet! "Come now, he would not possibly do such a thing, dear England! Little America needs a father figure in his life, non? You have nothing to worry about, mon cher." France smirked. "Unless, of course, that father figure was not supportive of him. If you did not approve of him in some way, if you do not give him any encouragement when he needs it most, well, that's another story. After all, no one needs an unsupportive father… Oh! But you always support him, non?"

"Belt the b-bloody hell up!" England impulsively clenched his fists and looked away from France, forcing himself for a second to be uninterested. But then, the British gentleman became more pensive and considered the validity of what his maybe-friend had just said.

America laughed. "Whatever France just said, it must have been really dirty! Look at the look on Iggy's face!"

China shook his head in disappointment. "England's face is long gone, aru."

"… Erm..." England glowered and mumbled to himself. "… … sorry…"

England was apologizing! France turned away to hide the victorious simper creeping into his features.

America also grinned, though his was more innocent. "Huh? What was that?"

"You, you heard me! I said it! I am not going to repeat myself! Barmy little wanker!" Keeping France's words in mind, England gulped down his pride and crossed the staggering distance of a couple meters to rigidly offer a handshake to America. "W-Well? Are you going to accept it?"

"Huh? Uh, wait, that's not really fair." America pushed the startled Japan in front of him. "You have to apologize to Japan!"

Japan wondered if he would get a fair say in this.

"All, all right. I agree." England nodded, with something like twitchy determination and kept his hand out. "A-Accept my apologies, J-Japan."

"H-Hai." Japan gingerly shook England's hand. "… Eto, you may let go now, England-kun."

"Wait a moment." The Englishman held on to Japan's hand. "Bef-fore I regain my senses, I want to tell you that, that I do not have any problems with you and America. You, you, you have..." He nearly choked on his own words. "You have my blessings! There, I said it!"

Japan's eyes widened so much that a glint of light almost reflected off his dark gaze. "A-Ano-!"

"Blessings? Japan isn't sneezing, man!" America pulled Japan back to his side and took England's hand for himself. "But it's all cool. Thanks." America tugged England in closer and hugged him.

"Ignoramus." Despite what he said, England felt a strange happiness, to be America's older brother again, or whatever the hell he was now to America. Whatever it was, it was certainly important, if that boisterous gleam behind the American's glasses could be trusted, and that was enough for England to be happy, even if he needed to share America with an Asian brother-in-law now.

France almost pointed out that after America finished the embrace, England was even smiling, but that would have ruined the moment. Japan also could have ruined it by correcting England's ludicrous assumption about the current state of affairs of American-Japanese relations, but wisely decided to be quietly embarrassed instead.

"How nice~" Russia interrupted their reconciliation with a haunting smile. "Now, stop talking, comrades! We play game now." He pointed at his flattened dirt stage.

"Ha ha!" America was never very good at following orders, or at reading the atmosphere. Therefore, he both forgot about England and defied Russia's command in a single moment. "What, are we playing with dirt now? We're not all poor like you, you know! What's next, playing word games in abandoned factories?"

England wasn't too offended about being ignored, because at least America was insulting Russia.

"Oh, you know of Dozor, comrade? Dozor is very popular code game in the motherland played in abandoned warehouses. However, this is not Dozor." Russia drew closer to the group. "In Yalta Conference, the Big Three dance around words to discuss the world after war. In this game, we dance to folk song."

"We?" England repeated in disgust. "You mean, the three of us, together?"

"Niet. Each member country picks a partner. I demonstrate, da?" Russia abruptly stood in front of China.

The Chinese man backpedalled. "Y-You said you would leave me alone, aru."

"I said I would be good boy for China." Russia bent down at the hip to stare directly into the other man's eyes. "So, I am good boy for China."

"Uh…? That's… Good?" China winced at his own choice of words. Did he just say good? This was not good! This was terrible!

"Bolʹshoĭ." Russia knelt on the dirty floor and held out his hand, his gentle smile growing. "You please dance with me?"

China knew he was done for when both America and France started laughing at him.

* * *

"S-Stop looking!" Germany stood in front of Italy and made him turn away from the scene in the bar. "I order you to leave at once! Verdammt, stop looking, Schwachkopf!"

However, Prussia countered this by making his kiss with Canada louder, producing strange groaning noises that made Italy curious as to what was going on, and made Romano want to vomit.

"Hör auf damit, East!" Germany grabbed Italy's ears and tried to close each one off with a palm, but that did nothing. "Italy, leave already!"

"Ve~ Germany?" Italy asked in casual confusion. "Why is Prussia choking that guy in the red sweater?"

"H-How can you be such an idiot!" Germany barked in amazed disappointment at his former charge. "He is not choking that, that nameless person, he is kissing him! But it has no significance and you should not be paying attention anyway!"

"No~" Italy shook his head somberly, even though Germany was still holding his ears. "I thought they were kissing, too, but look! That guy's face is really purple! It's like a big grape~!"

"That is not important! I… I... r-really?" Germany let go of Italy and turned around.

For once, Italy was right, because Prussia was getting so carried away in trying to embarrass Germany that he wasn't letting Canada get any air. Poor Canada nearly passed out, but he was simply too polite to pull away.

"Stop that!" Germany marched forward and forced Prussia back. "That is completely out of form!"

Canada took a deep breath in, but that didn't help his intense blush and foggy thoughts.

Prussia, not realizing that he was also out of breath, stumble backwards a little and laughed. "Ha ha! Woo~! How did you like that?"

"You clearly do not know how to kiss, East!" Germany barked at him like a drill sergeant on the topic. "You are not supposed to eat your partner's face off!"

"Oh?" Prussia raised his brow playfully. "Well, then, why don't you show me how it's done, Klugscheißer?"

Germany answered with a flat face. "No."

"Is that so?" Prussia let his eyes fall sideways, landing right on Spain and Romano.

Spain took the hint and hooked Romano close. "¿Listo, Romano?"

"N-no, no, no, no, tomato bastard!" Romano pushed the Spaniard away, and looked around desperately for an escape. "V-V-Veneziano! Come here!"

Italy skipped forward. "Ciao, Romano!"

"Italy, what did I just say!" Germany screeched at the top of his lungs. "Get out of here!"

"But France said I needed to get Romano!"

"France said that! Verdammt, Italy! How many times have I told you not to listen to France!"

"Quick, Romano, before they leave!" Spain tried to make Romano calm down by patting the air cheerfully. "It, I'm not so bad, right? And, remember what I said-"

"Lo so! Lo so! Imbarazzare la Germania, hai detto!" Romano crossed his arms. "Well, I know a better way to do it, tomato bastard!"

Spain sulked up a storm, though he kept his lips curved up. "Am I really so bad…?"

While Germany was considering what Romano had just said in Italian, Romano whipped out something brown and thrust it onto Germany's face. "Ha ha ha! How do you like that, potato bastard!" Romano pointed boastfully at the German. "You look so stupid, like one of your Kaisers in some British propaganda! You must be so humiliated!"

Prussia was apparently the only other person who found it funny enough to laugh at. Canada smiled timidly, since Prussia's odd sense of humor can be very contagious.

Germany only sighed. He knew what was on his face now. He did not have to check.

"Wow! Look, Germany~!" Italy jumped in amazement. "You grew a mustache really quickly!"

"Italy, Ich flehe Sie, Bitte, pay more attention..." Germany felt the fake mustache pasted to his upper lip and groaned. Everyone seemed out to annoy him today, and it was really getting to him. "Gott, how much more punishment are you going to give me?"

Just then, they heard screaming outside. Of all people, Russia peeked inside the tent and smiled patiently. "If anyone is born a German, God has sufficiently punished him already!"

* * *

"Méi b-bànfǎ! I d-decline, aru! I…" China gulped down his fear, set himself like an unmovable boulder on the ground, and rejected Russia's outstretched hand with crossed his arms. "I don't like touching, that's it! You said so in the bar! Uh, d-do your-remember that, aru?"

"Is that all?" Russia answered cheerfully. "Then there is no problem, comrade. I have gloves." He illustrated this point by pushing his hand closer to China.

"S-S-So? That does n-not help! My hands would still touch yours, and that's, that's indecent, aru!"

"Oh… Ponimayu." Russia beamed innocently and walked over to England.

England jerked back in surprise and trepidation. "W-What the bloody hell do you want from me?"

Russia wordlessly grabbed England's military jacket, reached into a pocket, and pulled out a pair of dull handcuffs. "Here they are~"

"Ha ha! Where'd you get those, England?" America poked him insistently. "Did you bring those with you? Well, I guess that's cool. They say that the British make the best policemen!"

"N-No, you twat, I didn't bring them! I took them off of Italy! You should remember, you were there!" England stared coldly at the large Russian. "And I-I feel so violated…"

"Hai, America-kun, Italy-kun wore those." Japan explained quietly. "China-kun made them and France-kun put them on Italy-kun."

Yes, France thought sarcastically, what a good idea that turned out to be.

Russia went back to China. "Would you wear this, comrade?"

"W-What? Y-You mean that chain, aru!" China recoiled in fear. "Absolutely not! Why sh-should I wear that, aru?"

"China does not like touching, da?" Russia calmly opened up the handcuffs. "With chain, I can dance with my comrade without touching him."

"What do you mean by-?"

Russia snapped one end of the chain onto his right wrist, and then clipped the other end onto China's right wrist.

"Aru!" A shock rattled the Chinese man. "B-But y-you s-said-"

"We are not touching." Russia answered kindly. "Now, we can dance, although, sadly, I will have to change the dance a little…"

"Ha ha ha! That's hilarious!" America slapped his knee in delight. "Look at China! He's stuck on Russia now! Oh, man, this is so awesome!"

"I think it is very sweet. Can you not see the romance?" France brought his hands together as if he were praying. "Ah, Russia cares so much for China that he denies himself even to hold hands, all to make China happy! Is it not adorable?"

England snorted. "It most certainly is not."

France smirked. He agreed with England, but he really wanted China to play along with this game for when Germany returned.

Japan, struck with a brilliant light of ingenuity, realized that maybe he could make a similar arrangement with America. He wormed a bit out of America's constant arm-over-the-shoulder hug to make an inquiry. "Eto, p-perhaps we should do something like that, America-kun?"

America focused his attention on Japan like a telescope. "Huh? Like what?"

Japan, surprised by the overly-keen and utterly hopeful spark in America's eyes, stuttered nervously. "Eto, eto, never mind…"

"Come, comrade!" Russia pulled his new chain buddy to the center of the dirt mat. "Do you know how to dance to Korobeiniki?"

"T-This is unbearable, aru!" China closed his tightly eyes at the humiliation and bodily risk that he associated with being attached to Russia, praying desperately that someone would save him.

"Eh, what's Koro-something-or-other?" America wondered aloud. "Uh, hey China, what's… Oh, you're busy. Eh, hey, Japan, what's-"

Japan gulped to clear his throat. "It, eto, it is a Russian folk song, America-kun. Y-You may know it as the theme song in Tetris."

"Tetris!" America grinned widely. "I love that game! We're going to play Tetris? I own at it!"

Japan bowed his head, trying to take America's ignorance with a good attitude. "Eto, they are going to dance to the folk song."

"Oh, I know how that goes. La, la la la, la la la…" America let go of Japan and started clapping his hands loudly. "Come on, Japan! You should totally clap with me!"

Japan shook his head furiously. "Īe wa anata ni kansha shinai-!"

"Like this!" America clapped abruptly in Japan's face.

"… Hai." Japan reluctantly obeyed, like a good soldier, and clapped softly along with America.

France clapped, too, smiling all the while, while England made a deliberate effort to frown as much as possible.

China glared at them venomously. "I hate all of you, aru!"

Russia, on the other hand, was delighted. "We have orchestra now." He moved his arms to the starting position of the dance, making sure not to touch China as he did so. "You are ready, comrade?"

"I never agreed to this, aru!"

"First, move back." Russia stepped forward, magically forcing China back. "Then move forward." Russia retreated, and tugged China with him. "Then repeat that a few times, jump, hop on the left foot, cross the right in front of it, jump, walk right, walk left, change places, repeat the last three steps, and start again. Simple, da?"

China scratched his head with his free hand. "Uh..."

"Da!" Russia clapped along with the other countries a couple of times before beginning his dance. He moved forward, backward, forward, backward, all in quick succession.

Dazzled, China could do little else but follow along, making sure not to stumble while trying to master the unfamiliar steps. China did not understand how Russia could be so graceful at this dance. The Russian was even flicking his wrists.

Suddenly, Russia jumped, so China did the same. Some more footwork, and on one move the Oriental man almost tripped, but Russia kept him strung up by holding his hand above China's head.

"Walk right." Russia suggested.

China, more concerned with executing the move than with the terrifying Russian, spun to the right and, on account of the handcuffs, Russia moved with him as though he were twirling the country himself. Without even thinking, China clapped and spun himself to the left, then changed places with Russia.

Russia's coat swept over the dirt mat as he passed China. "There is no clapping or twirling in Korobeiniki, comrade."

China's dark hair waved in the air with the movement of the switch as he threw his arm over his partner. He was so disoriented by the dance that he had the nerve to make a sarcastic comment. "It wouldn't be Russian if you didn't twirl like a yo-yo or clap like a cymbal monkey, aru!"

Russia smiled and yanked China to the side, trying to get him to walk. China defiantly spun around in circles, clapped his hands high enough so that Russia would not bump into him, and spun back around, switching places again.

They restarted the dance, with China redoubling his effort to make the dance stereotypically Russian while the former Soviet Union himself sought to keep it actually Russian, all while neither touched the other. The dust stirred around their feet as they walked backward and forward with increasing speed and precision. China almost made some mistakes but Russia always kept him from erring.

On the first pass in the third round, Russia added a twirl himself when they switched places. "Is this Russian, comrade?"

China smirked. "Yes, I guess this is going pretty fast for me, aru."

Russia pretended to twirl him to the right. "You misunderstand. I said 'Russian,' not 'rushing.'"

China spun back to the left. "A team of four horses cannot overtake what's been said, aru."

"Da?" A fan of obscure proverbs, Russia said nothing else and continued the dance.

While still striking his palms together for the song, America elbowed Japan in the side. "Hey, Japan! We should dance, too! It looks like so much fun!"

"U-Us? Dance to-together?" Japan tried very hard not to look away. "I, I, I cannot, America-kun!"

"Huh, why?"

"Because, eto, because if we stop clapping, then France will be the only one!" Japan nodded fervently to substantiate his argument. "One person c-cannot clap without sounding pathetic."

"Oh, is that it? Ah! I've got the solution! 'xcuse me, Japan!" America stopped clapping and reached into his bomber jacket. In order to do that, he had to reclaim his jacket from Japan. "We can just dance to this!" He proudly pulled out the music box that Japan had given him earlier. "Oh yeah, only the hero could come up with this!"

Japan ceased clapping. "The box that France gave me? Are you sure that is wise?"

"Yeah, I'm tired of this song, anyway. Let's hear what you gave me!" America opened the wooden box.

The Spanish melody flooded the clearing from within the Italian box, enrapturing everyone and drawing their attention away from the Tetris dance. France put his hands down. "Oh, America has that box that Germany gave me?"

The two nations on the stage came to a standstill. "Aru? How did that get there?" China remarked bitterly. "I gave it to Germany, aru!"

Russia brandished a bottle of vodka in his free hand. "That is the box that I gave China~"

"W-Well-" China flinched nervously, and hoped that he could get the handcuffs off quickly enough in an emergency.

"Italy gave box to me as gift on airplane. How nice~" Russia beamed. "The gift went around to everyone."

Except, England had never received the box. "What on earth are you all talking about?" He remembered that Germany has possessed it before, and that Italy had been very upset that Germany did not like it. That was back when the eight nations were still together.

"What's wrong, Iggy? No one has given you this box yet? Here, here, do you want it?" America tantalized him with the box. "Ha, really! Do you want it? Do you want it? Huh?"

England stared suspicious daggers at the wooden music box.

"Oh, come on, I'm just playing." America offered him the box. "Seriously, do you want it, 'cause if not, I'm keeping it."

"Ah-ha! That's it! That's it!" England shrieked. "I've found it! That music box is the source of the curse!"

"Are you still going on about that-?"

"Give me that box! I have to destroy it!" England leapt at it.

"Hell no, dude!" America pulled it away, and England fell clumsily to the ground. "This was a gift from Japan! I'm not letting you ruin another one, ha!"

"A-Another one?" The Brit rubbed the back of his head. "F-Fine, I, I will not destroy it. B-But that must be the cursed object!"

"I think you're just jealous about it! Here, you can have it." The American patriot picked his sort-of-brother up and gave him the box. "You can see for yourself how harmless it is."

England turned the thing over diagonally, sideways, and upside down, eager to convince himself that it was not him who had placed the curse, possibly in a drunken rage that he did not remember. On the bottom of the wooden box, he found something surprising written in English. It was surprising because it had his name on it. "J-Japan, did you see this?"

America, momentarily bored, found a hamburger in his jacket, which he had put back on. "See what?"

"Nothing, America. I purposely didn't ask you if you saw it, because I know there is no possible way that you of all people would notice something like this. Japan, did you write this on the bottom? Actually, maybe France wrote this."

Japan politely shook his head. "No, England-kun. Eto, what does this say?"

England held it up close for inspection. "It says, 'Welcome to the land of love, England~! We hope you enjoy your stay with us and eat plenty of pasta!' Hmm, that's rather odd. Whoever did this even wrote that squiggly line next to my name."

"Pa, Pasta?" Japan's eyes sparkled a little. "Oh, this must be a gift to you from Italy-kun."

"Oh, yeah! I remember that!" America mindlessly took Japan in a bear hug again. "That was some funny stuff! I think Italy was going to wait for you at his airport, but I tricked him into going to Russia! It's a good thing I did, because you never would have showed up!"

Japan focused on breathing, because he was feeling light-headed.

"For the love of God, America, I almost forgot that this is entirely your fault." England raised his nose. "And besides, there is no way that Italy made this as a present for me. That is just absurd. If he did, then why give it to Russia of all people! Russia! No, there is just no way. This must be a present from the spirits of this island! M-Maybe they are the fairies from this inter-dimensional land of love."

America sneered lightheartedly. "I'm pretty sure that 'land of love' bit was just referring to Italy."

"No, I'm sure of this! I was right all along! There are spirits here, and this box is proof of it. If so, then what cryptic puzzle of a message are they trying to communicate to me from the other side?" England paced about the clearing, deep in thought. "They are saying that they want me to stay here, yes, but they also say to eat pasta. That must be the secret to unlocking the curse!"

"What, being stupid enough to believe in magical fairies?"

"No, miserable wanker! We all need to eat pasta to be free of the curse!" England struck a valiant pose and crossed his arms at this epiphany. "There, I have just saved us all."

Japan took in an especially deep breath. "England-kun, if that were true, eto, then why was Germany-kun the only one who could escape?"

"Simple." England wagged his finger. "That muscle-bound freak must have eaten some pasta shortly before arriving here. I bet he ate some that Italy made for him." England closed the music box and set it next to his feet. "No one touches this magical box from my new spirit friends! I need to go make some pasta for everyone to eat!"

"P-Please, do not, England-kun."

"Japan's right, you suck at cooking. Let's just get our monkey to do it, if you want it so bad." America turned to the side. "Hey, France!"

France was cross-legged on the ground, drawing out his plans in the dirt. "Eh? Mon cher, are you suggesting that I am a monkey?"

"Yep! Go to the Axis camp and make us some pasta, monkey!" America had no reservations in calling him a monkey, which in his home meant a simple-minded servant.

France shrugged. In France, a monkey is someone who is tricky, and he could accept that description. "Très bien, mis amis. Should I make some for the Axis powers? Or Russia and China? They left while you three were talking, by the way. I assumed that none of you heard China shouting?"

"Whatever! Get cooking, French fry!" America heroically adjusted his glasses and directed France toward to the other side of the one-mile island.

France wiped his plans away and calmly strutted to the Axis camp. Even though he had seen Russia drag China away, he was not worried about the safety of the latter. Russia would never hurt China, right?

England rolled his eyes. "I suppose I should add some magic to the pasta, just to be safe. And anyway, France is clearing plotting something, so I should follow him..."

"No way! France would know we're on to him!" America didn't think that France was up to anything, but he wanted to play along. "And I'm not letting you near any food!"

"B-But what if I have to eat!"

"So, I'll send Japan in, instead!" America smiled down at his pet otaku. "Right, Japan?"

"Ano? Y-You want me to spy on France-kun?"

"Oh, you'd do that for me? Awesome! Here, you can take my jeep!" America childishly handed Japan the invisible wheel of an imaginary car. "It'll be like an adventure! Vroom vroom!"

Japan resisted face-palming, yet again.

"America! Must you be so immature?" England gave Japan a pat on the back and sent him on his way. "Go on, then, Japan. Can't let a Frenchman go unsupervised!"

"H-H-Hai." Japan scampered after France, internally conflicted between running like a soldier and driving a make-believe car like an idiot.

America watched his friend go, grinning madly. "Japan is so cool."

"I guess." England glanced sideways at America. "So, when are you going to put the moves on him?"

* * *

"Greetings, comrades." Russia spoke with his body halfway through the tent opening. "I come to bring Germany and Italy back so I can finish my dance with China."

"Not yet, give Spain a second!" Prussia moved to stop Russia. "You can't take West until Spain gets his chance."

Russia leaned sinisterly forward. "Are you trying to stop me again, East Germany?"

"H-Hey, the, the awesome me doesn't live in your house anymore! So, call me P-Prussia, ja?" Prussia worked up a laugh.

Russia and Germany cooperated more often than not nowadays. Ever since reunification, they realized that they could depend on each other for energy. Specifically, Russia supplies energy while Germany builds the infrastructure that Russia needs to supply it. So, economically, the strategic partnership works out well, but unfortunately, political issues never seem to go away.

China poked his head into the tent, right next to Russia. "P-Please hurry. I can't stand this much longer, aru!"

"Ha ha, China!" Prussia blurted in surprise. "Why are you so close to Russia!"

The Chinese man bowed his head in shame and produced his right wrist, which was still shackled to the Russian's. Prussia would have most certainly approved of handcuffs under different situations, but this seemed like little more than a way to terrorize China.

"China does not like touching." Russia explained it in a such a way that made it sound like a nice gesture. "This way, we are together but do not touch."

"Ja! Gut. Okay, if you say so!" Prussia stifled a mocking laugh. Why was Russia so concerned about what China liked? And China did not look very happy about it, anyway. "That sounds stupid, but that's not surprise, since it's coming out of you! Ha ha!"

The Russian soldier looked off to the side distractedly. "Careful with what you say, comrade. A team of four horses cannot overtake what's been said, da?"

"A-Aru?" China looked at Russia with curiosity and confusion, but Russia, as usual, only smiled. It seemed to Prussia that Russia was putting way too much effort into warming up to China, and Prussia wasn't sure he was happy about that.

It didn't really matter, though, as long as Prussia could keep the two at the door.

"Germany, I apologize for Romano. Ha, you know how he is." Spain scratched the back of his neck and chuckled lightly. "In, in fact, I was just trying to ask him something muy, muy importante."

Germany nodded. "Fine. Italy and I will be on our way."

"Oh, no! Please, wait for us. This shouldn't take long!" Spain ushered Romano closer, and lowered his voice. "Are you ready, Romano?"

"I told you, tomato bastard! I'm not going to do that with you!" Romano kicked the wooden floor. "I already did my job using my mustache weapon! Look at that sorry look on Germany's face!"

"I... I don't think that is humiliation, Romano. Trust me. Trust Boss Spain on this one!"

"Do whatever you want, but I won't kiss you, pedo!"

"Pedo? Are you calling me a fart? Uh, no importa. I still have to embarrass Germany, though, so I promise this will be quick, ¿de acuerdo?"

When Romano humphed, Spain took it as a yes. It was just in time, because Germany was just about to usher Italy out of the building.

"¡Romano!" Spain shouted.

"W-What!" Romano flinched back in shock. Italy, and then Germany, looked over, as did the three by the entrance.

Spain knelt down on the ground and held Romano's hand in his own. The passionate Spaniard locked eyes with his former charge, and let his soul pour out into his words. "Te amo!"

In Spanish, when you want to tell a family member or another loved one that you love him or her, you might say, 'te quiero.' However, when you want to express deep, romantic love to someone, you might say, 'te amo,' which is not commonly heard. Unlike America's mistake with Japan earlier, Spain knew fully well what he was saying.

Romano stopped dead cold.

Germany also froze. This was absolutely impossible…!

"Ve~" Italy swayed his head back and forth.

Prussia was so amused that he laughed boisterously. China found it very laughable as well, but Russia's presence made this Western idiocy remarkably less funny.

Canada sulked at the bar. "And once again, they forgot about me."

* * *

"Put the moves on who, Iggy?" America picked up the music box and twirled it on his finger like a basketball. "You mean, Japan?"

"Yes, you know bloody well who I mean." England stood straighter and haughtily dusted off his jacket, feigning disinterest in the topic. "You have, ahem, adult interests in Japan, I understand. So, I'm asking you, when are you going to do something about it?"

America stared at England very hard, trying to find meaning in the foreign mix of words that he had picked. Then, America laughed out loud and tried to determine if England was serious or not. "Ha ha! Are you kidding?"

"Of, of course not. As your older brother, I should care about your interests-!"

"No, no, wait, ha ha! Ar-oh-ef-el!" America clapped England on the back. "Dude, seriously! You think I'm gay for Japan?"

"You're n-not?" England was stunned. "B-But the way you cling to him, a-and…!"

"It's all in your head, man. Japan is my super awesome kickass friend, sure, but that's all."

"N-No, that can't be!" England snatched the wooden box off of America's finger. "And especially I'm sure of it, because the fairies have sent me this message."

"What, make pasta?"

"Do you lack even a basic level of intelligence? The message is from the mystical spirits of this island, which they call the land of love. I am positively convinced that those spirits cast a spell on you so that you would fall in love with Japan, and vice versa!"

"Do you know how retarded you sound right now?"

"Wanker!" England lifted the box and smacked America with it in the back of the head.

"Ow, cut that out!" America kneaded it in dismay. "You people keep finding ways to hit me! You know, I put a lot of effort into making sure you guys didn't bring weapons! I made sure China didn't bring a wok, but then he picks up a frying pan at the camp. I didn't let Russia bring a faucet pipe, so he uses a Molotov cocktail..."

"Don't change the subject, yank! I know that you're in love with Japan!" England waved the box around menacingly. "And I know that he's in love with you, so stop being such a child about it."

"He, he's in love with me?" America stuck his finger in his chest, wearing the most adorably unaware expression on his face.

"Yes! Obviously! Why must you be so ignorant! Man alive, you must inherit your wit from France..." England massaged his temples. "Don't you remember how Japan was blushing? How he gave you those gifts? How he could barely say a word? My point is that the magical beings of this world have decided to have you two fall in love, and their judgement seems, at least, relatively fair."

"You're not really good at talking about this sort of thing, are you?"

"Nonsense! Unlike you, I am fully aware of it. In fact..." England snapped his fingers. "Yes, I remember that! A picture appeared in the sky of you and Japan together! That must have been another message from the magical pixies!"

"No, that was just a thank-you from me." America shrugged with a smile.

"And, what were you thanking him for?"

"Well..." America looked down to remember. "… He said that I am awesome."

"Right! And no one would normally do that in his right mind! Therefore, this must be the work of the magic on the island. Or, I suppose, if he already liked you before we came here, then that would work as well. In any event..." England dropped the music box carefully on the ground. "… I want you to be happy… And you should be a proper gentleman and act accordingly on your feelings."

"Dude, that sounds so gay."

"Fine, it's gay! So what? Your happiness is more important." What England meant was that his role as a bigger brother was more important, but it sounded nicer this way.

"Oh, I dunno… Only certain parts of me are okay with gay stuff." America checked his body parts, as if those would speak to him. "I know California is cool with it, and New York has this whole thing going on about it. But, you know what? If Japan likes me, and he thinks it's cool…" America puffed out his chest and saluted himself. "I can do it. I can do anything, because I'm the hero!"

"Do what, exactly?"

"Oh, uh, beats me… What am I supposed to do?" America dropped his salute and looked at England. "What would you do?"

"Why, I would be a proper Englishman, of course, and sweep her, or, in this case, him, off of his feet!"

"Awesome!" America beamed hopefully. "Say, can you show me how to do that?"

"Oh, absolutely! I would be honored." England grinned victoriously and put his hands on his hips. "By my word, I will gladly turn you into an absolutely invincible British gentleman!"

"Ha, I guess that would automatically make me gay, wouldn't it?"

* * *

Bye!


End file.
